Little Things
by Dark Austral
Summary: Sam begins to notice little things when he rejoins with Dean. Set between 5.3 and 5.4 and afterwards, friendship fic of Dean, Cas and Sam
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters, they belong to Kripke and the CW._

_A/N: Wow, it's been a long time since I posted here. Just getting a feel over in LiveJournal and thought I'd post this story here. A lil summary on it. It takes place between 5.3 and 5.4 and also after 5.4 of Supernatural, when Sam and Dean part ways and also after they rejoin. I'm pretty much making an assumption that they were apart for at least a couple months during the summer. The writing in Italic is after 5.4 and in regular font is during the time they were apart. __These are just a small series of flashbacks and insights :) Also, you can see this as a slash between Dean and Cas if you want, but I mostly wrote it as friendship._

_Enjoy!_

**_Little Things: Chapter 1  
_**

_"We keep each other human," comes out Dean's answer, his head bowed down with a weariness that terrifies Sam. His brother always had an air of hollowness since his return from the Pit. Couple it with mistrust toward a brother and Sam knew that in order for either of them to regain their footing, they needed space to breathe. Alone and time to remember who they are and not worry constantly when the bomb would drop shattering their relationship permanently. _

_But this right here, when only a few hours ago Dean told him that they were better off apart, scares Sam. He sees that stubborn streak faltering; the fear of something makes his older brother appear old way beyond his years. Sam fingers the knife, shifting back and forth on his feet not sure of what to do next, "I meant what I said Dean, it's not about revenge this time." _

_The Dean of before would have grunted as the Dean before Hell would have cracked a joke. This Dean, he hints at a smile as relief bleeds in the corner of green eyes. Something's changed in his brother. _

_"Good to hear." The low statement is cold, like the stale air surrounding the pair. Eyes peer over Sam's broad shoulders, narrowing at the sight. "Grab your stuff; we're leaving your poor excuse of a car here."_

_Gathering his duffle bag, Sam listens to the rickety rack of a train groaning over the tracks a few feet away on the raised bridge. Boots cake in mud as he treks over, dumping his things into the trunk as Dean waits quietly in the driver's seat. They're brothers again but also total strangers at the same time. At least this time, they both take a step forward to bridge the wide canyon between them. _

_Slamming the truck shut, Sam slides into the familiar passenger seat, closing the door just as Dean starts the Impala__. _

_And that's when they appear._

* * *

With booze down, women out of the question, the last thing on Dean's '_Last night on Earth_' party is pie. Crashing at an old malt-shop off a beaten road on the way back to the decaying house, Dean perches on a stool, rubbing his hands in eager anticipation. They're the only customers, which is typical considering it's about half past midnight. Hell, he's surprised a diner's open at all.

Next to him, relief spills out on Cas's face, which consisted of eyes closing for about a minute before opening again. Only half an hour ago, the guy was about to lose his virginity acting like he was taking a stroll on the Green Mile. The drive had been quiet, Cas constantly gazing out of the window as Dean kept on laughing as the event replayed in his mind. In the background, Greg Kihn Band's song "_Jeopardy_" blares quietly in the corner. Trying to bit back another fit, Dean raises her arm gesturing for the man to turn towards him.

The angel obliges, the stool squeaking slightly as he turns. Blue eyes lower themselves, watching quietly as Dean reaches out to rebutton the white shirt before straightening the tie back to its loose form. Breach of personal space blares loudly in the hunter's head, but like usual he ignores it. Instead, Dean finds himself humming along to the chorus, muttering the words, "Our love's in jeopardy, baby, oooooooo."

Patting the angel's chest, Dean leans back to survey his work. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but seeing those rumpled clothes was a bit daunting. "There we go, back to normal."

"Thank you, Dean," the voice is soft, full of gratitude. Cas's shoulders slump as if the gesture was the missing key to defeating Lucifer. Eyes flicker upwards as if sending a small prayer of thanks that he lived through visiting a den of iniquity without being smitted in the process.

"No problem, Cas. I promise though, this time things are going to work out. Third time's a charm." Sending a crooked grin to the weary angel, Dean turns back to the counter, fork posed in attack position as the waitress lays down the two plates of warmed up apple pie.

"There ya go, sweethearts," muses the woman, who also happens to be the chef's wife. "We'll be in the office, yell if you want something."

"Thanks," chirps Dean, fork already digging into the pie with the giddiness of a five year old. He's half way through when he screeches to a halt. Beside him, Cas raises his first full fork and bits into flaking golden piece. Time seems to freeze as the angel's face tightens, blue eyes narrowed in concentration before widening with excitement. No terror or confusion or anger just pure, child-like wonderment.

Swallowing, he licks the few crumbs off his mouth before turning to face Dean. "I like pie," states Cas with the same certainty he speaks when declaring he's an angel of the Lord.

Warmth fills the hunter inside, his own relief spilling out that something has gone right this night. "Good, otherwise I don't think we could be friends anymore," jokes Dean.

Surprisingly, Cas says nothing in return, happily returning to eat the pie, humming his love especially when the second slice comes not only warmed but topped with vanilla ice-cream. It seems angels have a thing for sweets.

Forks clang on empty spotless plates signaling the end of the third round. Cas rolls his shoulders, taking in every bright red furniture in the fifties style diner. Rubbing his full stomach with content, Dean waves at the waitress to catch her attention. "Two root beers please." He flicks his eyes to Cas who tilts his head, puzzled at the request.

"Root beer?"

"Don't worry, it's not alcoholic." The soda comes back and as Dean slurps down his, Cas mimics him, lean fingers bending the large straw. The child-like gaze is back in full force as Cas stares into the glass watching as the fizzling drink lowers revealing glistening ice-cubes underneath. Dean finds it hard sometimes to think of his buddy as some almighty warrior when all it takes is a soda and pie to bring an angel down to child's level. It reminds him of when Sam was young and those bright hazel eyes were always shining with curiosity at this vast country called America.

Bitter happiness burns the back of Dean's throat. Shaking his head, he fights back the memories. Tonight it's all about Cas, not Sam.

Leaning back, Cas huffs out a breath, astonishment tugging a hint of a smile upwards.

"Well?" Dean presses, eager to know the results while taking another long sip.

"I like it," Cas fixes his eyes on Dean, delight shining in them, "It reminds me of a drink back in the Mesopotamia."

Dean snorts, the soda shooting out through his nose. Coughing and laughing, he blindly reaches out for a napkin.

Cas's face scrunches in confusion while he cleans his mess, that damn worried tone making itself known. "You alright?"

Gasping, Dean wipes away his tears, tossing the soaked napkins onto his plate. "I'm great man." Reaching out he clasps a hand on the angel's shoulders. "Just never heard soda described like that before. I swear you are like a library on randomness."

Cas frowns, a guarded look darkening the blue. "Well it's true."

Dean wants to respond, to stop that wall from rising up again. They're just getting to know each other, Cas opening up to him like never before. This was progress and now he's about to blow it. But then just his luck, the waitress comes back with two plates of pie.

"On the house boys, you two look like you need it."

"Thanks," Dean says, green eyes beaming with forced joy, as he smells the warm spices.

Cas curtly nods, eying his own slice, "Thank you, Susan."

Susan senses the slight depression, motherly instincts winning over. But from her won experience, anything can be cured by a slice of pie. Letting her own happiness shine through her gray curls at being in the presence of two very polite young men, the waitress gathers up the dirty dishes. "You're welcome." Then she waltzes away into the back again, letting the two enjoy their soda and pie in the warmth of the tiny road side diner.

Tilting his head, Dean pats Cas lightly on the shoulder, a quiet apology written on his face. Cas wasn't Sam, hell he wasn't human, so of course he wouldn't understand a friendly jab. It's a hard adjustment but one Dean yearns to succeed in.

"I believe ya, man. I believe ya." And as those words fall out on their own accord, Dean realizes he truly does. That despite making a few bad decisions or being a dick sometimes, Cas never truly betrayed him intentionally. Sure, he was a bit lost and made a few bad decisions, but who hasn't. Somewhere along the way of stabbing the guy in the heart to Cas dying for him, Dean trusts and believes in the angel.

As that warm feeling eases slightly into the coldness Sam left behind, fear clenches around Dean's heart that tomorrow he might lose Cas once again and that this time there wasn't going to be some miracle to save him. The unpleasant thoughts must have oozed out of him because Cas reaches over and swipes a large piece of pie from Dean's plate. In one fell swoop, the angel eats the piece, a certain glint to his eyes as Dean stares bewildered, head tilted to the side.

"Cas?"

Then angel cocks his own head, a mirror to Dean, voice level and factual. "I believe you said earlier that I've full on rebelled against Heaven, no?"

"Yeah?" confusion racks Dean's mind, not knowing where Cas was going with this.

"You also mentioned that I should enjoy the perks. And I believe eating as much pie on my last night counts as a perk."

Dean can't fight back the astonished look blasting across his face, lips quirking into a smile. Well, well, well, maybe there was hope for the angel yet. "Guess I'll let you slide this one time." Giving a firm squeeze on the tan shoulder, Dean points an accusing finger at the angel's face, all humor gone from his face. "But the next time you try to swipe some of my pie, I'll kill ya."

Out of all things, it is this that earns a tiny chuckle from the angel. "You've tried that before."

"Yeah well, you, I," Dean falls short on words, hand falling away. Grumbling back to eating his massacred slice, the Winchester shots a dark playful look at his companion. "Just to warn ya, payback's a bitch."

"I'll keep that in mind," muses Cas, his tone still the same gruff but Dean can hear the change underneath. Shaking his head, Dean focuses back on eating while Cas does the same, both finding comfort in the simple actions despite knowing that in a few hours things could change for the worst.

* * *

_Things sticking out like a sore thumb, for the entire world to see when Sam opens the fridge in the small motel room. The usual six-pack of some cheap local beer is tucked lovingly to the right side. The holy water flasks line the door as he places his water bottles on the sides beneath the freezer. But there off to the side, hiding in the shadows of the left, there's a solemn root beer bottle frosting over. And by its side is a left over slice of apply pie from dinner left untouched with a small scoop of ice-cream melting over the edge. His brother never drank soda and never left a piece of pie untouched. Never._

_Dean catches a glimpse of the six-pack as he walks by Sam to take a shower. "Go ahead and treat yourself."_

_Sam shrugs, trying to keep a neutral tone. "I'll pass. Glad to see you haven't changed your habits though."_

"_Yeah, well you've always been a health freak," jokes Dean, but the humor isn't there. Straightening his shoulders, something passes over the tired eyes when they take in the other two items. Then just like that, it's gone with a whirlwind as Dean whistles out a nameless tone closing the bathroom door behind him._

_As the shower groans awake, Sam stares back down at the pie and the soda pondering for another minute of its existence. Before long, cold air tickles at his bare feet. Shaking his head free of the reverie, Sam closes the fridge. It's merely soda and pie, what's the big deal. Dean's probably saving it for later, nothing to get worried over. Feeling resolved over that decision, he takes a deep breath before reaching out for mug to make himself some coffee._


	2. Chapter 2

____

Disclaimer: Same as usually, don't own diddle squat. C'est la vie.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews :) It's great to be back too.

**Chapter 2: Sam begins to notice little things...for instance someone's been messing with the music.**

___Sitting in the car, tires eating miles of road, Sam flips through newspapers, checking out any signs on the Apocalypse or trials to the find the Colt. So far, the brothers were merely driving from town to town, Dean doing little tune-ups or supply runs in between. Any mundane thing to avoid talking about angels, demons and being meat suits for an epic Cain verses Abel battle royale. _

_"Dean, here's something maybe. Colorado Springs gets intense hail storm for three days straight." _

_Dean's left hand curls slightly more over the steering wheel, his relaxed face tightening. "Don't care right now, Sam. I say we take a small break and try to find our footing again. I mean come on, you've still gotta have cravings for bitch blood." _

_Sam's face flares red as he snaps the newspaper closed. "I'm fine Dean, haven't had a craving in months." He remembers when those other hunters had forced the demon blood into his mouth. He had been terrified that he'd fall off the track again and that this time there wouldn't be no omniscient being to cleanse him. _

_And somehow knowing he had a second chance, he resisted and split the foul blood, how did he even think that stuff was delicious, right back into the hunter's face. _

_The thing is, is that Dean doesn't know because if he did, Sam knows that Dean would track down those hunters and do things… _

_Then again, his brother might not. _

_Sam catches the tail end of the one-sided discussion. "So, that's why we're going on the lowdown, Sam. And I mean deep, deep underground." Dean sends a glance full of authority leaving no room for objection. _

_"Fine," the younger Winchester tosses the paper and notes onto the back seat. Just as he's about to straighten out, he spots the tiny box full of tapes. Reaching across, he pulls the box towards him, flipping around to face the dashboard and a tiny little change that unnerves him more than the soda and pie. _

_

* * *

_

Stepping out of the small motel office into the bright, rising humid air of a Thursday morning, Dean halts in whistling a nameless tune, keys swinging between his fingers. Leaning against the Impala's passenger door on the driver's side is Cas, keen eyes watching a young couple running towards the pool trying to cash in another swim before check-out at noon.

Despite how tempting that pool is, Dean pushes forward noticing how the angel is not affected by the rising heat even with that damn coat on.

"Hey Cas," greets Dean, opening the trunk tossing his bags inside. The angel had called last night wondering where he was, but after that there was nothing except a soft goodbye. It wasn't like the angel to just call for the mere sake of it and it had left Dean a bit uneasy for the rest of the night.

Blue eyes narrow slightly as if trying to figure out why it was so funny about making huge splashes. "Hello, Dean," comes the expected response. Even after everything, the angel never says Hi.

Dean rolls his eyes as he slams the trunk closed. "Dude, stop ogling the swimmers."

Of course, Cas follows his orders and instead fixes that intense stare onto him. Swallowing, the hunter jerks his head to the side, gently nudging Cas away from the door. At least he's used to the soul-piercing gaze, which he doesn't know if that's a good thing or not. Either way, Dean doesn't care because despite that whole speech about liking being alone, he hates it. And with Cas here, it melts that frozen wasteland in his gut just a tad.

It's gonna be a hot nasty day today and he wants to be long gone before he melts into a puddle of goo. Opening the door, he shuffles off his coat and green shirt, tossing it in the back. The black tee is already sticking to his back. Dean knows he should feel awkward with Cas standing quietly next to him, but then a cool breeze ghosts past his neck sending shivers running down his spine. Jerking upwards, he watches as the angel walks quietly to the other side.

"You tagging along?"

Blinking up at him, Cas's normally pale face hints at a tiny dash of red. "If that is ok."

Slamming the door closed, Dean slides into driver seat, smiling as she rumbles to life. "Then hop on in or I'm leaving your feathery ass behind." Locking the door shut, he glances to the passenger seat spotting his new companion. "You're one lazy angel, you know that."

Cas' lips purse in confusion. "Why?"

"The door, you idjit. You know never mind." Shaking his head, Dean feels the tension of the heat; a bad night's sleep and the absence of a certain overgrown weed build up in him. He wants Sam to sit there. Instead he has to settle with a Colombo wanna-be angel. But as the air conditioning kicks in, it freezes away the anger making him realize that anything beats an empty seat.

"May I ask what brings you here this fine mornin?" Pulling out on the interstate, he switches into cruise, turning off the air conditioning while rolling down the windows. Nothing beats the feel of wind rushing over you going at 70 miles per hour. The tiny town disappears into the horizon with a sigh of relief of a job gone well.

Cas shifts in his seat, his shoulders seeming to ripple as a certain blast of wind whips into the car. "I…merely wanted to see how you are doing."

"Well ain't that sweet, Cas." Dean can't help but tease, picking up on the nervousness. The fact that he was beginning to read the angel now was a bit alarming yet comforting. "But it's only been like three days since we dealt with Raphael. Nothing new here."

"I know." Cas's solemn voice cracks at not knowing how to say what he's thinking yet full of honesty. No hidden meanings or secrets tainting the meaning.

And somehow that makes Dean grin, cheerfulness reaching his eyes.

They drive in comfortable silence, crossing the state boundary an hour later. Clearing his throat, Dean flashes an inquisitive gaze at the angel. It's not in the other guy's nature to simply sit in one place without a purpose. "Ok, what is it? Shouldn't you be out there looking for God or something instead of lounging here with me?"

Breaking his gaze from the window, Cas's eyes drop with surprised resignation. "My leads for God have gone cold. I thought that I would keep you company till something surfaces. Besides, with Raphael roaming now, I figured it would be best to stay low for a while and be near you in case..."

"Is that guilt I hear for using me as a bullet shield?" pushes Dean, trying to keep his eyes on the road while waiting to see the angel's reaction.

Instead of the wallowing puppy-dog eyes the angel uses more and more, Cas shoots a gaze full of power and otherness. Even though no words are exchanged, Dean can almost hear the words of apology, of regret for dragging Dean into a mission that in the long run didn't accomplish anything. Yet, determination shines with conviction that the angel had to do what he had to do.

'This is war' those blue eyes dictate. In an electrifying moment, Dean remembers exactly the type of angel Cas is, that despite all their fun times together the warrior of God that visited him in the kitchen is still present and hurl-happy.

Sighing, Dean flips on his cassette player, wanting to get away from how tiny he feels. "Just forget I said anything." Bobbing his head to the music, it takes only ten minutes till that foreboding power is gone leaving behind the infamous awkward silence.

Curiosity shadowing his eyes, Cas turns his head, face pursed in concentration. Dean can't help but bite. "What is it?"

The inquisitive voice is back, the nervousness and holy anger vanishing behind a stone exterior. "Why does this man sing about not fearing the Reaper? He is right but is it not in your nature to fear death?"

Dean shakes his reeling head on how fast the angel could change gears of infinite superiority to socially inept. "Yeah but it's a song, Cas. It's by Blue Oyster Cult called 'Don't Fear the Reaper.'"

"There's a cult of blue oysters?"

"No," sighing Dean feels his energy begin drain away. This is harder than raising Sam. Opening his mouth, Cas surprises him by pulling out the small box of tapes and peering inside. "Is there something you want?"

"I liked the other band we were listening to on our way to the…" a faint blush dashes across his face. Scratching the back of his neck, he quickly mutters, "The one about a green river."

Dean's mouth falls open, eyes wide with shock and glee as he takes in the blank face of Cas. "Really? I never would have guessed you a CCR fan."

Cas nods, before fixing back on the box. His face displays a lost look at not knowing where to start with all the choices sprawled out before him while he states with utter calmness. "Dean, I suggest you turn to the left a bit before we run off the road."

Yanking his head forward, Dean snarls out, "Shit!" The thrumming of the tires driving over the ridge lines on the side of the interstate jostle the car. With a quick and smooth swerve, he glides the Impala back onto quiet tarmac. "You're freakin distractin, you know that."

"That is what she said."

The pure deadpanned expression is nailed as Dean slams onto the brakes knocking both passengers into the dashboard as a screeching sound pierces the air.

"What the-Where did you pick that up?" Dean's shocked voice; eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights make Cas tilt his head.

"Did I not say it correctly?"

"Yeah you did, you know, wait a sec!" Easing off the brake, Dean drives the Impala back on the side of the road and placing it in park before turning to fully face the angel. "Where did you pick it up?"

"I was searching a campus, thinking God would be amongst the young and I heard a group of men talking about such things."

Licking his lips, Dean chuckles as he scratches his head in mild shock. "I swear Cas, when you think you know a guy…" Cocking his head, Dean's mouth flies open before he can stop himself. "Just don't say it to any strangers, except me, ok."

"Why?" Cas's voice sounds almost child-like.

"Because hearing those words coming from a man with your appearance and get-up would likely lead to your arrest or getting shot." Dean's about to say more when those usual bright, eager eyes dull, falling down with a hint of disappointment towards the box full of tapes.

Dean feels his mouth begin to open again as understanding blazes to life like a light bulb in his mind. The reason why Cas truly is with him, why he tries to throw in human expressions…his new interest in music. Cas knows that in order to successfully hide, he needs to blend in, needs to try and not stick out like a sore thumb for all to see. He needs to learn all of earth's complicating mannerisms in such a short time so that he won't fumble on the next hunt. He needs…

Mind spinning with how much the angel has to learn makes the Winchester feel sick. If he were in Cas's shoes, he would have thrown in the towel months ago. Hell there's stuff; Dean still has to learn himself. But there was two things going for the angel, thousand of years of observation and Dean Winchester himself. Straightening his shoulders, no longer feeling tired but determined, Dean grabs the box of tapes from the angel's lap causing Cas to watch him with full-blown interest. From here on out it would be his personal mission to educate his angel on the fine art of being human.

Popping out Blue Oyster Cult, Dean places it back into its case before tossing it into the box. "Ok, now usually the house rule is that the driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole. But since you don't got Sammy's crappy taste in music, here's the plan when you ride with me. You pick a tape out, I'll give the lowdown and we'll move on from there. But no touching the radio, capeesh?"

Cas's eyes pinch as he tries to understand the Italian word. After a few futile seconds, he nods in acceptance, those blue eyes are once again shining with what looks like gratitude. "Very well."

Handing back the box to the angel, Dean puts the car in drive and rumbles back onto the interstate. Picking up a battered plastic cover, Cas gently takes out the black rectangle and places it into the player.

Dean can't help but smile softly at the motions. No one's handled his music that reverently except him on the special occasion. A second later, Ram Jam's 'Black Betty' blasts from the speaker causing Cas to jerk back eyes wide with alarm. Barking out a laugh, Dean reaches out to turn down the volume. "Oh man, you know how to pick them, Cas!"

Cas does his little head tilt; a ghost of a smirk warming over his face at Dean's own beaming grin. Turning his focus back on the box, Cas moves his fingers gently over the cassettes, sorting the tapes and propping them up so he can read the name of bands while Dean speaks with a confidence that's faltering on the history of Ram Jam and how this Black Betty has become an icon.

____

_

* * *

_

_He reaches to grab a tape, wanting to fill the tense air with the blaring music he's too proud to admit he's missed. It's a Metallica tape and he could have sworn that the tape's film had been dented. But now, in blinding light of the afternoon sun, it looks brand spanking new. _

_Tossing the tape back into its cover, his snooping nature at wanting to see the rest of the contents override his need for music, Sam's about to toss it back into the pile when Dean's hand lashes out, hand slapping his arm, voice brimming with irritation, "Hey, don't mess up my tapes. You know how long it took me to get it to that state!" _

_"20 something odd years?" quips Sam, sly grin making itself known. _

_Green eyes flash with agitation as a fake laugh fills the air. "Ha, ha, ha." _

_Sam swallows, knowing when to pick and chose his battles. "Ok, ok, I won't touch your precious babies." He carefully lays the box back down on the seat as Dean quickly grabs a tape with accuracy while he continues to watch the road. His brother probably memorized each cassette by their dents and cracks alone. _

_"Don't forget either, driver picks the music…" _

_"Shotgun shuts his cakehole." _

_Dean grunts in approval, sticking the tape into the player. Pushing back into the black leather, Sam loses himself into the thrumming of a guitar of CCR's 'Green River'._

_Things like Dean's cassette box now resting on Sam's lap scream out changes he doesn't want to even comprehend. Once a swirl of chaos, foggy plastic cases of tapes he's heard a million times lie in an organized state. Some are propped up on their sides, names of bands sticking straight up with pride while the others remain in a pile. Blinking Sam's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the alphabetized pattern. _

**A/N: **Hope you all enjoyed. I should hopefully keep this up with an update at least by the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

____

A/N: Hi again :) Here's the next chapter.

**Chapter 3: Laptops and cell phones, oh my?**

___Texting on long drives or after a hunt catches Sam off guard when he pretends to sleep, too afraid that Lucifer will plague his dreams. He stares wide-eyed through the reflection off the window as his brother hits each button with a speed reserved for quick draws on hunts. He doesn't know who Dean's talking to, but he's starting to think of a certain someone. _

_Because like Hell it ain't Bobby. _

_He knows Dean doesn't chat with a lot of people in his free time unless it's seriously important. Curious jealously yearns to know whom he is talking to in such a secretive manner. Yet, Sam bits the inside of his cheek till blood trickles down his throat. Dean's allowed to have a life, he tells himself. They were apart for a couple of months, what more did he expect. Dean to become a monk? To cut himself off from society? _

_And it's not all texting, neither. There are actual phone calls Sam spots when he's cruising the gas station's mini-mart. Dean's out there, chatting up a storm, his face stern as Sam realizes his brother is discussing impending end of the world issues. Yet, there are other times a content look befalls the tired face, making Dean appear years younger. _

_A sigh fills the air as Dean snaps his phone closed, tucking it into his coat pocket as he opens the motel door. Sam recognizes it as thinned out patience. Same goes with the times when Dean growls upset or furious before snapping the phone with a bit too much force. There's also the soft chuckles and sometimes full out bark of laughter. Not to mention the middle of the night calls, where he hears Dean curse the living daylights out of the caller without cracking an eye open to read the caller ID. _

_Oh yeah, Sam knows who it is. _

_Flopping onto his bed, his tailbone aching after the long drive Sam pulls out his laptop, flipping it open. He hasn't had any chance to research the local haunting. Stretching out his sore legs, waiting for the computer to boot, Sam flicks his gaze to see Dean crack open a beer, sliding into the chair by the window as he pulls out a sleek black laptop of his own. _

_"Dude, when did you buy that?" He can't help but let his surprise shine through. Dean was never one to go out and do actual research without some type of moaning and complaining. That and even when Sam had left for Stanford, Dean hadn't bought a laptop and they were apart for years. _

_But a measly couple of months go by and poof, hello laptop? _

_Dean grins wickedly, "Ain't she pretty, almost reminds me of my baby outside." Patting the smooth cover, he playfully tugs his eyebrows upwards. "Jealous?" _

_An old familiar flush of embarrassment pushes out a groan. Rolling his eyes, Sam tries to shake his head clear of unwanted information. "Dean, really?" And it warms his heart as Dean snickers at his obvious discomfort. _

* * *

There it is in all of its awesome glory.

The black sleek laptop glistens on the white pedestal, the air thrumming with voices as the blinding neon light shines down from the pin prickled ceiling. Inching forward, Dean holds his breath, tongue dashing out for a quick lick of his dry lips. For split second, he feels like Indiana Jones when he's about to swipe the Aztec statue in Raiders of the Lost Ark. It's silly, but he can't help it with his fingers itching by his side, heart pounding against his chest.

Oh yeah, he can picture it already. Sitting in some crappy motel room, stretched out on the bed, the mattress rattling as the Magic Fingers work their magic as he runs over the keyboard, unlimited resources at his disposal. Looking up ridiculous but hilarious You Tube videos, catching up on any movies he's missed, but most importantly hello Busty Asian Beauties website. This time no Sam and his obsessive compulsion will get in his way.

Nibbling at the bottom edge of his lip, Dean spares a hurtful glance at the price. It's cutting it close, but damn it he wants it. Heck, he can treat himself today considering he just wasted a few ghosts. His hands move upwards, ghosting over computer, yearning to take a pass over those smooth black metallic keys. It's like his baby morphed into a computer. Coughing to clear his throat, Dean braces his shoulders, shots a cautious look to the sides before grabbing a box underneath the display.

It's for the good of the hunt, he tells himself. It's either Internet researching or holing up in some stuffy library. With no geek for a brother present to tease endlessly, he wouldn't be caught dead holing up hours in some dark dusty corner of a library where book worms are lost, never to be seen or heard from again.

With a jut of his chin to booster his confidence, Dean pivots and walks with a satisfied stride, laptop tucked underneath his arm. Oh yeah, he made the right decision and can't wait to bring this bad boy home. In less than a minute, Dean makes his way across the Radio Shack store to the other side where Cas is standing, the glow of a vending machine perched outside surrounds him like a lost friend.

Outside, the mall bustles with teenagers trying to kill the boredom of summer. Teenage girls are gossiping over who knows what, trying to straighten out their slim tank tops and shorts as boys walk by munching down chips and slurping massive cups of soda. Their oblivious nature to the larger world outside high school and the impending Apocalypse makes his chest tighten with an old envy.

"Well?" Halting by the angel, Dean anxiously waits to hear of Cas's decision. Instead, Cas turns to face him, that all-knowing look passing through the air. For a blank appearance, Dean easily reads the unspoken words that declare he shouldn't feel envy towards the teenagers. Instead, he should feel grateful and proud that they do not know of the things lurking in the shadows. It means, blue eyes narrow slightly as Dean's throat tightens, he is doing his job perfectly.

Shoulders sagging, relief dares to trickle in Dean. Lips cracking open, he's about to break the silence that encompasses their long stare downs. Instead, the angel beats him to the punch, breaking contact sensing the discomfort rising from the hunter.

"I don't know, Dean." Cas shuffles quietly on the balls of his feet, fingers curling over the edges of his coat as he abruptly switches conversations. For a creature that a moment ago displayed such utter conviction this unknowingness rocks Dean's boat.

Coughing, Dean shakes his head the world outside returning back with sudden loudness. It's like that long stretch of road he walked after digging out of his grave, so full of sounds and life vastly different from Hell's screams.

"Oh come on," Dean lightens his rough tone, "You gotta have a cell-phone. You can't keep bothering Bobby or using a pay phone. Besides," a playful nudge with his elbow, Dean's eyes sparkle with mischief. "How the hell am I supposed to give a girl your number?"

Cas's scared look draws Dean to pat the guy gently on the shoulder. It's an amusing expression, but the victory sensation he gets from Sam's bitch faces does not warm him bones. "Or what if I need your help?"

Resignation slumps the angel's shoulders, yet he still appears lost before the long cluttered assembly of cell phones. A pained look flashes across blue as he points randomly at a phone. "That one will do."

Dean follows the finger, taking in the simple black razor flip phone. Reaching out, he gives it a quick look over, noticing that it would be able to handle a few thrashings and was thin enough not to be conspicuous. The price is in good range. Now the only question was the service plan, cause who the hell knew where Cas would be calling from. Leaning forward, it only took a split second to read the company before a wicked grin flashes over his face. Building chuckles rack his frame, causing Dean to bend over gasping for air as the cell phone tethers over the edge dangling by a slim cord.

Cas stares puzzled at Dean, invading the hunter's personal space to rescue the phone, cradling it in his palm gently. "What is so funny?"

"Virgin," chokes out Dean, eyes crinkling, "Virgin mobile…really?"

Cas opens his mouth when it clicks. A year ago, the innuendo would have flown over his raven-hair tousled hair, but Dean's rubbing off and not in a good way. In a flash, he quickly places the phone back in its' proper place as if it were a demon and grabs another one randomly off to the side.

Yet, Dean spies the darkening blue eyes and the blush rising on the pale cheeks. Cas's embarrassment makes the laughter bubble out in a string of snickers. It would do him no good rolling on the floor with laughter, embarrassing himself in the process. It's all Cas today.

"I'll take this one then. It's got minutes already and one can get an…" Cas fights to overlook Dean's behavior as his eyes scrunch up to read the small print, "upgrade to include an international plan." Turning he quickly leaves the stand, coat rustling behind him. He knows Dean is making fun of him and while it pains him for some odd reason, there's a small warm satisfaction washing over him as he walks away.

Laughter halts, dread filling Dean's face. "Wha?" The strained voice is now void of any joking tone filling instead with utter dread. He sprints after Cas, clutching his laptop close. "International? I'm not that rich man! Money doesn't grow on trees, y'know!"

Cas drowns out the pleas, fighting back the impulse to smile at Dean's flustered appearance as he walks up to the check-out counter. "Actually it does, considering money is paper and paper comes from trees."

Dean stands mouth a gap, Cas laying the phone on the counter before pulling the laptop out of Dean's grasp. As the woman rings up the items, he stares at Dean with the familiar emotionless mask. Yet there's a tiny mischievous glint to his eyes. "I believe you have the card, Dean."

Shaking his head, Dean slowly pulls out his wallet, spotting the cashier's face. She's a young woman, dark-haired hanging loosely over her smooth pale face. The red and black uniform does little to compliment the fine curves and fit arms. She's the type of woman, Dean would be flittering with. Except, her small smile reveals only her amusement that this whole discussion is entertaining her.

Flashing a charmed smirk, Dean squares his shoulders handing her the card. "Fine, fine. But you owe me." Leaning a little forward, he nods his head to Cas, "He just moved here from overseas."

"Oh," drawls out the woman, a shy glint of interest to the angel. It's typical for girls to fall for the forgein types. "Where you from?"

Not hearing the cashier, Cas shakes his head lightly, a ghost of a pout forming. "What is this? A laptop?"

As the cashier slides the card back, Dean adds quickly. "Russia, his name is Chekhov." Fighting the impulse to roll his eyes, he pushes Cas lightly as the angel leans into his personal space to take in the large box. "Yeah, it's a computer man."

Taking in the picture of the laptop, Cas fixes his gaze up at Dean. "This is nothing like the Greek's 'computer'."

"You mean the Antikytera mechanism they found in the sea?" The cashier's voice heightens with glee as she places the laptop and cell-phone into a bag.

Cas and Dean both move to stare at the smiling woman, whose excitement radiates off her once bored posture. "I watched it on the History channel," she explains, "I can't believe someone else knows about that thing!'

A giggle passes through her lips as the two men before her tilt their heads to the side at the same time. It was the type of motion only two people can hone if they spend so much time together. The one with green eyes cocked his eyebrow, a pleased fliteraous look flashing over his face. She feels a tiny blush come over, but she isn't that interested in him. He seemed a bit out of her league, besides...a cute Russian in her store, hello opportunity.

That said, the one with the gorgeous blue eyes that she can find herself lost in seems to relax, his shoulder dipping underneath the ill-looking coat. "I am suprised one such as yourself would know as well."

"Well," she sighs happily as that deep voice vibrates straight into her, "I'm majoring in Anthropology at the local college, and we have to take this Intro to Archaeology class and yeah, long story short..." Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she rips the receipt and gives it to the taller man to sign, not breaking eye contact with the other. "I feel like a bit of a nerd, but then again, hello working at Radio Shack."

Dean grumbles quietly under his breath as he scribbles the fake name, feeling a bit left out between the two geeks. At least Cas didn't know how to flirt to save his life-

"There is nothing wrong with being...a nerd. You are a very smart woman, Lindsay. Despite your worries at not having enough money and fearing that you might have to sell your grandmother's precious rings she left you when you were little-"

Dean barks out a nervous laugh, watching as the woman raises her head away from where she was handling the copy of the receipt. Clamping a hand hard onto Cas's shoulder, Dean squeezes tightly to silence the man. "Ha, don't mind him."

The cashier blinks widely, shock draining away her giddiness as her body moves on its own accord. Handing Cas the copy of the receipt, she leans slightly forward as if trying to figure out the strange man from Russia. "Have a nice day..." Her voice drifts off in total loss as Dean sends a tight smile, grabbing the bag and pushing the angel out of the store.

Merging into the busy walkways of the mall, Dean spares a few glances over his shoulder to make sure no security guards were following them. As they turned the corner, facing the large neon sign of Sears, he lets out a long sigh of relief.

"Dean that was hardly necessary."

The hunter stares at the angel, scowling. "Dude you can't keep telling people about their past issues."

"Why not? I thought you said the best way to interact with women was to learn things about them." Cas's confused voice causes a blush to tint Dean's cheeks.

Stuttering out an answer, he runs a hand through his hair trying to get himself out of this mess. "I meant learning small things about a woman, like what type of drink she likes or the type of music she listens to, not family or money issues! Dude, at this rate, you won't ever get a woman. Maybe we should just stop cause apparently I suck as this whole match-making gig. It's not like I'm freakin Cupid or anything."

An unexplained cringe tightens the angel's face at the mention of Cupid. Like in true Cas fashion, though, the emotion is gone in a blink of an eye. "Then I guess," voice deadpanned and eyes fixed straight ahead, Cas hands Dean the receipt where on the back scrawled in large black ink is a sequence of numbers. "I will not need Lindsay's phone number."

All Dean does is run into a trash can.

____

* * *

_Dean spies the hooded look from Sam, senses his brother's mistrust swelling off to his side. It's been almost two weeks and Dean still can't get used to the awkwardness. Clicking away in search of any nearby demon activity, he flicks his gaze towards his cell. ___

_As if sensing his growing agitation, the phone blasts out with a rock beat. Two seconds later, he flips the phone open a breath of relief bursting out. "Yo." _

_Sam's head rises slightly but the younger Winchester keeps his eyes focused on his own laptop. Dean's grateful for that. Because, it's hard for him to admit that during those long drives when he was too afraid to call Sam and didn't want to listen to Bobby's ridicules, he called Cas. Cas who listens while Dean vents or merely chats about nothing. Who makes him grin at things he never knew to be funny. _

_Despite being a supernatural creature who can smite him, Cas lets Dean laugh and poke fun at his expense while an angel of the Lord is getting beaten up by an old lady with her purse because he leaned too far into her personal space. _

_That secretly Dean's glad Cas went with the international plan because it's worth every freaking penny. _

_"Tell Cas I said Hi." Sam's voice booms across the barrier making Dean flinch. Shooting his eyes over, the older Winchester braces himself to see anger or disappointment. He expects everything but the quiet approval shining in those large hazel eyes. _

_Dean's voice is soft, fighting to remain neutral. "Yeah." Then he clears his throat turning his attention back on the computer screen. "Got something Bobby?" _

_"You think I'm callin you like some love-sick teenager? Of course I got something, ya idgit."_

_**A/N:** Till tomorrow, night!_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Sadly, the cross-roads demon is on vacation, so I don't own any of the characters. They belong to Luci himself, Kripke.

A/N: Thanks you guys for all the reviews. They made my day :) Sadly, this chapter ain't gonna be so happy, so brace yourself. *hands out a box of tissues*

**Chapter 4: It's Hell on Earth and for Dean it's like taking ten steps backwards.**

_Dean's ruthless, Sam realizes one night. His brother is a master…an efficient killing machine. It disturbs him how those green eyes fall blank, void of any emotion as he slices through a couple of demons. ___

_It isn't till tonight, when he realizes how far his brother has gone. This Dean doesn't mess around anymore, no more quips or jokes. It's war and it's hardening his brother at an alarming rate. The knife has become an extension to him. More importantly, the old dog has learned a few new tricks. _

_Sam's running towards the stair well on the second floor of some old factory. Down below on the cluttered floor full of wooden crates and steel storage bins, Dean's grabbed a female demon twisting her so she faces her companions advancing on his brother. With a sure downward motion, the knife sinks deep into the woman's chest. _

_The demon and the woman's lives vanquish in a blaze of yellow hellfire. _

_But there are three demons left and Dean can't fend them all off with a mere knife. No matter how skilled he is, the elder Winchester is no match. Yet by the time Sam flies over the corner of one of the crates, he skids to a halt breath leaving his lungs in a powerful rush. _

_Dean stands there, the woman's body lying in a pool of blood at his feet. A few steps away, the other demons lie out on the ground dead in a semi-circle before his brother. There's no stab wound or cut to mark their departures. Their bodies are perfectly normally except for the paling color of flesh and the heavy stench of fire and brimstone sizzling in the air. _

_"Let's go Sam." The ice-cold command tightens Dean's tone, all his compassion frozen over like ice. This Dean, Sam swallows as he watches wearily from the back, has no humanity or if he does, it's not towards demons or the people possessed. Which is strange because on any other hunt, Dean's passion to protect people is blinding as ever. It's like with demons, he goes numb. _

_It's a little thing that reminds him no one comes back from the Pit unchanged. _

* * *

Cas lands onto hard unyielding tarmac in the middle of intersection, scanning each road searching for that familiar streak of black. The morning sun blinds him from the east briefly making the world pure white. Cas twists to face the west blue eyes blinking back tears. Behind him a large silver SUV zooms up the road, honking its horn. But by the time, the driver slams onto his breaks skidding to where Cas stands, the angel is gone in a flutter of wings.

Only to perch onto the edge of a tall skyscraper, eyes overlooking the vast populated bustle of people scurrying through the city. Beneath the loud chaotic noises, Cas can't hear the guitar riffs of AC/DC and knows Dean is not here.

Spinning around, his tail coat flapping, he takes a step and ends up on long bowling greens, the rain pelting against his coat while the wind whips and slashes in frenzy. Turning, he squints through the harsh weather taking in the simple white colonial house while all around him tourists of every shape and size run to find cover in the mist of the summer thunderstorm. Yet there is no green-jacketed Dean darting towards him.

Fingers curling, Cas lets out a long sigh and turns his head to look upon the majesty of rolling green hills. Groaning machines vibrate the broken highway he stands on. A man in an orange vest stalks up to him, while others bustle around their machines eager to fix the cracked tarmac.

"Hey mister, you can't-"

But his snarling tone disappears in the loud snap of wings. There is no Impala parked in the long line of cars waiting patiently to continue forward on the one-lane road.

"_Mount Vernon_-" Dean's voice laced with a panic echoes in the angel's mind, fueling his every wing beat. He's gone to fifteen states so far, but it doesn't make the list any shorter. Why must the humans have a city named Mount Vernon in each state? Why?

A part of him wishes to call the aid of Bobby, but he knows that crunching sound at the end signaled the destruction of Dean's cell. With no cell, Bobby cannot lock onto Dean. And he knows Dean didn't mention where he was heading to the old hunter.

Shaking his head, Cas feels his body begin to tense with a feeling he's grown accustomed to whenever dealing with Dean. It was there during the Witnesses. Then it hissed loudly in his ear as Dean fought the ghost sickness. Later, it seized his heart, crippling him as Dean fought against his brother. And it hasn't let go since the moment he seared those brands into Dean's ribs.

Stretching out his mind, Cas feels surprised when he realizes only an hour has passed by. It's too long for his liking. Gut twisting once more in that awful ache; he reasons that if by the next three cities Dean is not found, he is going to Bobby. From there, the man can contact other hunters and see if any have spotted Dean. Then he will retrieve Sam, even if by force, and they will go and get Dean. Because he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong…so very wrong.

Landing quietly in a small one-road town of Mount Vernon, this time in a state called Iowa, Cas falls into his routine checking each building and warehouse and basement from the inside out. Frustration blossoms in his chest. He's about to leave when a metallic glint catches his eye from an abandoned library a few feet away.

With a quick flap, he sighs with relief as his hand touches the cool surface of the Impala. Giving it a tiny pat like he's seen Dean do countless times, Cas cautiously moves around the building. It's not long before his nose wrinkles, catching a tiny whiff of sulfur.

Following the scent, he peers inside one of the multitude of small windows; spotting seven demons standing guard at the doorways. Off to the side though, between the science-fiction and young adult, there's a small set of stairs leading to the basement where a soft glow peeks from behind the door. A moment later, the door pushes fully open as a lean female marches up the stairs snapping orders at the others.

Lips thinning, a plan begins to form in the angel's mind. Eyes flickering to the side, he takes in water tank on the roof. Muttering a quick pray of blessing, he twitches his fingers and sets off the sprinklers. Inside, the demons begin screaming, the female throwing herself under the cover of a table, black eyes brimming with rage. Straightening his shoulders, Cas pulls the space around him and dashes into the basement, slamming and locking the door shut behind him. Willing himself back into being, he hears the pounding on the door, yet doesn't pay heed.

All his attention is on Dean.

The hunter is tied to a pipe, his arms stretched up above his head, bare feet dangling barely scrapping the floor. His face is bruised, with a multitude of tiny cuts slashed all over his legs and arms. Reaching out, Cas touches Dean's chest gently earning a weak cough as blood spills out onto his chin.

Green eyes crack themselves open, a small smirk twitching his mouth. "C-cas."

"Easy Dean." Cas shoots his gaze upwards at the coils of rope. Reaching up, a soft sound escapes his mouth, his fingers burning as he quickly yanks them away watching the smoke fizzle from the rope. The demons drenched it poisoned holy water.

"Bounty," rasps Dean.

Flicking his gaze to take in the pipe's construction, Cas searches for a way to get Dean down. "You need to save your strength."

"Hell's most wanted…" A splash of something wet pulls the angel's attention back down. Red-stained sweat runs down Dean's battered face. Green eyes shudder as they drift into the hazy fog of memories. "I did it Cas. It's my fault. I deserve this…"

Cracking his mouth to respond, the door above the stairs flies open. The female demon's white teeth gleam as black eyes widen in joy. Before him, Dean hangs his head low, body falling limp against the agony. Glancing over his shoulders, steel eyes narrow into slits as Cas shifts to cover Dean from the demon.

"Well, well, well, I was wondering when you'd show up, angel." The woman flips her soaking wet blond hair over her shoulder, long scars circling around her neck in an intricate design of a necklace. "I've been getting reacquainted with Dean here, but I must say I couldn't wait to see your pretty blue eyes again."

Cas's wings rustling with anxiousness. Dean groans in pain, sliding backwards into the torment of Hell before the angel's very eyes. The hurricane of repression has taken a hold of the hunter and will not let go.

The woman takes a tiny step down, eyes scanning the angel with glee. She senses the angel's weakening grace and it gives her confidence. "You left me on the rack, feathers. Grabbed Deanie here and took off without saying hello. Kinda hurts a girl's feel-"

Cas appears before her in a flurry of ashen feathers, slamming his palm onto her forehead as the other tightens around her throat. As the body convulses under the onslaught of an inferno, he eyes the other demons over her head. Only four other demons remain, the compatriots lie boneless in puddles of holy water. Wings snapping to attention, he senses the demons' fear begin to rise. They thought of him merely as a reject. But Cas has been to Hell and back, no easy feat for even the highest of all angels. He has raised the righteous man, faced against white-eyed demons and traitorous angels. He has fought an archangel.

He died.

Tossing the dead body to the side, wings crackling behind his back, wind whipping at the roofing shingles. But above all those feats, the only thing the demons underestimated is the angel's loyalty to this human being. They hurt Dean, made him remember the Pit; of how broken he was when Cas found him. It angers the angel more than anything else. And as the demons begin to inch backwards in fright, Cas realizes that this burning fury scares him as well.

Finally one demon's fear turns into rage and he launches forward. Lips thinning, Cas runs up the stairs to meet him head on.

The breaking of furniture pulls Dean out of mind-numbing agony. Croaking past chapped lips, he searches with blurry vision the familiar sight of tan and blue. "Cas?" A blood-curdling scream makes him flinch. It's an all too clear reminder of Hell. Then another blink later and Cas stands before him, face slightly flushed reaching up and face tightening in pain as he yanks the binding free.

Tossing away the burning ropes, Dean collapses into Cas's arms. He doesn't say anything but those blue eyes say, "_I got you_." And Dean can't help but tumble into oblivion.

Cas cradles Dean close to him and for a split second he has the desire to fly off to Bobby's. But he knows his charge. Dean wouldn't want anyone to know. So instead, he flaps to the side of the Impala, laying Dean gently into the passenger seat. One flap later and he's in the driver's seat, igniting the engine.

He's traveled enough with Dean now to learn the basics of driving. Shifting the gear into drive, he roars out of the town and drives anywhere but here. It isn't long till Dean's shaking, arms tight around his chest as he moans out in pain.

"Dean," Cas doesn't mean his voice to be so cold, but it works snapping hazy green eyes to stare up at him. Something clenches at his heart as he remembers that young, vulnerable look not too long ago in a hospital.

"I…I d-did that C-Cas…"

The angel frowns, not knowing where Dean's going with this.

"I-I made h-her," comes out as a chocked confession. "I thought it would be fun to dress her up like she was going to prom for her anniversary down in the Pit. Thought I'd get creative and carve the designs of a necklace…she did it to the poor girl as a reminder…right in front of my eyes…"

Cas's hand moves on its own, latching onto the trembling shoulder as Dean stares up at him lost.

Sparing a quick glance to the side, Cas growls out, "She's not your creation Dean. That demon came into existence by her own accord."

"I…tor-tured…that po-or gi-rl." Then to Cas's alarm, Dean breaks into a cold sweat. Without no Sam, Dean's going into shock, falling into the pieces he patched up all but a year ago. Dean's having a relapse and the angel finds himself lost at not knowing how to deal with this onslaught of emotions...how to comfort this mortal being...his friend.

That same burning anger he used to kill the demons stirs within the angel once more. Surprise flashes in him quelling the storm as his voice cracks the silence, "No."

Concentrating, he wills his power and in flash they are in a remote house, the Impala parked outside, the warm night air humming peacefully with crickets as fireflies dance outside a foggy window. They're at the other side of the country, deep in the south where no demon can find Dean, whose twitching on the old rickety bed. With a soft caress against a sweat-soaked forehead, Cas stills Dean's memories taking all the pain and agony away if only for a little while.

Sadly, it's only a few hours later when Dean jolts upright, a scream caught in his throat. Blinking back tears and flames, the hunter barely makes out a tiny table where a paper and pencil lie as if someone was writing something mere moments ago. A warm presence shifts at his side, pulling Dean's attention upwards at the concerned face of an angel.

"You should learn your exorcisms Dean." Cas stands in the dim shadows, the light of a small lantern deepening the blue eyes to almost black.

It would have reminded him of demons, but that pure undiluted faith and love in the soft tone breaks Dean. Knees drawing upwards, he can no longer fight the dam that's rupturing beneath. Knowing that he created demons that are hurting people…to find out from her sneering hatred that there's a bounty on his head…that he started all this…

"I can't," chokes Dean, drowning in the deluge of fear and guilt and plain old weariness. "I'm worthless, Cas. I'm scum! I'm just like Alastair only worse!"

Blue eyes blaze with a light that frightens Dean, reminding me that he is talking with a creature beyond his comprehension. Cas walks to the edge of the bed, his coat brushing against the comforter. "You are not worthless, Dean Winchester. You are not scum and do you not dare compare yourself to Alastair. You restored my faith and trust me it takes a very special person to do that to an angel. You are good, Dean. And I will never regret saving you or betraying my home for you. Never."

Dean finds himself without words, staring widely at a man whose never spoken that much with such unwavering faith. Without thought, Cas leans closer to his charge, resting his hand gently on Dean's shoulder. If Dean's heard him, he doesn't know but he feels that this is right. That this is what he should have done back in the hospital after the incident with Uriel. "Let it go, Dean. It's me, the one who gripped you tight and raised you out of Perdition. I've seen you at your worst and at your greatest." He pauses dropping his voice till it's barely a whisper. "I'm watching over you Dean…let it go."

The young man hangs his head low, chest heaving as dried up tears choke out of him. Not for the first time a sudden drowning feeling makes him flaps his wings in agitation. He wants to ignore this human's pride and merely take him to Bobby or better yet Sam. Sam knows how to handle these situations…he can help Dean. Cas knows he is useless in this area. Emotions are confusing and he's only now just barely to see the tip of the ice-berg. So how can his father think he can comfort this man. He doesn't know what to do and it's frustrating.

It's _human_.

Fingers curling into the shaking shoulder, Cas moves to take a step back before injuring his friend. Yet as he pulls away, Dean snaps like a twig, collapses onto him, his fingers clenching tightly in a death grip around Cas's coat, words falling like a mantra on a broken record. "S-so..so-r…ry…sorr…sorry…oh god…so sorry…sorry…sor-"

Halting, Cas remains still, bowing his head slightly chin brushing lightly over his charge's hair. He has no choice but to remain. Little does the angel know he's becoming an anchor for Dean, his stable form providing the desired comfort. Stretching out his weakening grace to wrap itself protectively around Dean, wings dropping in utter grief, Cas whispers in a holy language a prayer of strength for this fragile, mortal being with a soul a hundred times more worthier than even Heaven's most glorious angel.

* * *

_Dean's rummaging through the trunk, tucking weapons and reloading others. He'll need to call Bobby or Cas soon and report to them. Ever since learning about the incident from a few hunters that had been following the demons, Bobby's been on his tail about calling in before, during and after hunts with only a three day limit otherwise he was calling in the angel infantry. Sam stands quietly off the side, watching the drilled movements not knowing what to do or even to say with what happened back there in the warehouse. ___

_"Something wrong, Sam?" _

_The gruff voice pulls the younger Winchester's attention to the front, "Huh?" _

_Dean waves a hand in the air, "Dude, you're staring at me for the past five minutes, it's kinda getting creepy. I get enough of it from Cas, don't need it from you too." _

_"Sorry," hunching up his shoulders, he watches as Dean slams the trunk closed. Dean frowns, turning to face him with a no crap look on his face. "It's just…what the heck happened back there Dean? You took out three demons." _

_"Yeah well someone's a bit out of shape." Dean turns his back on Sam, hands sliding into his pockets. _

_"It's just that, what ever you did must have been some powerful mojo. And frankly, Dean it scares me a little." _

_"Thought you'd be happy I wasn't killing anyone with the knife." Dean's fingers curl over a faded worn piece of paper in his pocket. He remembers every word, the ink permanently staining the flesh underneath his fingernails from the constant rubbing. _

_Cas was right. He can't rely on the knife for everything; he has to rehone the skills his father taught him. _

_So under the tutelage of an angel who never left his side after he rescued him, Dean ever grateful Cas kept it between the two of them, the hunter painfully learned and memorized efficient exorcisms. He always hated learning Latin much less memorizing the thing. He just couldn't get it and it didn't help that Sammy was the smart one picking it up like a breeze. _

_But Cas sat quietly by the table as Dean healed from his cuts at the abandoned house, bringing food and beer from who knows where. Somehow, the angel knew what worked and didn't, his angelic patience weathering Dean's frustrations and hopelessness. _

_Yet it was nothing like what happened that night. He can't help but look at the angel more like a pillar of strength to fall back on when all words have left him. If something were to happen to Cas…make him vulnerable or more human, he doesn't know what he'll do. _

_"Dean tell me." Sam's voice is insistent, a simmering anger rippling at the edges. _

_Yet Dean keeps his mouth closed. Sam had his secret with the demon blood, he can have this one. Because in the end, the exorcism keeps Sam safe from demons and himself and it's his job to keep Sam safe. _

_"It's nothing." _

_Sam bites his lip as Dean walks to the driver's side, the door cranking open. Fingers' curling into a fist, Sam realizes he doesn't like being kept in the dark again. But if this is how Dean wants to play, then he can keep doing his damn little thing. Cause one way or another, he's going to find out and the best way is going through Cas. _

_Cause like hell will Sam allows Dean to walk his path of screwing around with powers beyond his control. They don't need another ex-blood addict in this family._

_**A/N: **Till tomorrow then, same bat channel, same bat time :)_


	5. Chapter 5

____

A/N: Well here we are again :) And I promise, this one is a bit more on the happier side.

**Chapter 5: Really this sort of thing only happens in movies, not in real life. **

___The list keeps going and it doesn't become more apparent than witnessing Dean and Cas together. Sam hadn't been planning the reunion. And it wasn't like he could call the angel, who somehow had his number but not the other way around. It seems the only person allowed to have those precious digits is his brother. But for some odd reason since getting back to Dean, Cas steered clear of making himself physically present and Sam couldn't help but think he was the reason why. _

_"Thank you Mr. Cornwell." Nodding at the grief-stricken widower, Sam flips his notebook close as the door quietly shuts behind him. Lightly jogging down the stone stairs, he walks briskly over the corner, shrugging his shoulders to bite off the coming fall air. Dean's off interviewing the backyard neighbors on any suspicious activity. It seems even nowadays despite working together, they are still doing things separately. Spotting the Impala, Sam feels himself slowing down his eyes widening with each step as he reroutes himself towards a park bench on the outskirts of a tiny playground. _

_Dean is holding a small little girl with curly brown hair dressed in a small orange dress with one arm. He's bending down, the free hand scouring through a large blue baby bag throwing things left and right. In front of him, Cas is watching the whole scene intently oblivious to the squirming girl whose chubby arms are trying to get a hold of his tie. _

_Groaning, Dean gently shoves the baby into Cas's hands, the angel quickly adjusting his grip to prevent the girl from falling. "This is ridiculous. Who could imagine a baby would need all this stuff?" _

_"Dean, I still do not see why you called me," a tiny dip of his mouth hints at a frown. The baby coos and giggles, hands happily tugging and twisting the blue tie. _

_The sound of shoes crunching in the few dead leaves pulls the angel's eyes towards the side where Sam comes to stop. The two stare at each other, with not a single greeting forming at the mouth. Under the intense stare, Sam feels as that same condemning presence lay out all his sins to the world without any ounce of forgiveness. _

_"Because I thought-" Dean lets out a tiny yell of victory as he yanks out a pair of large plastic keys of all shapes and colors. "Bingo!" Rising, he dangles the toy keys in front of the girl's face, trying to distract her from ruining the tie. "Here ya go sweetheart, something way cooler than a dirty old tie." _

_"Uh…" Nose scrunching upward, Sam can't help but scratch his head, "Dude…" _

_A cheeky grin is on Dean's face when the older brother turns to face the gawking man. "It's not what you think, Sam, met up with an old friend while you were out flirting with the locals here at the park. I'm just babysitting for a couple of minutes." _

_"Right," drawls out Sam, his eyes catching the girl ignoring the keys completely, her attention focused solely on something underneath Cas's shirt. "So, what's the kid's name?" _

_Cas sends a soft squint of his eyes which could have been mistaken for a glare at his brother when Dean jangles the keys louder and closer, almost smacking them into the angel's face. "Dean is this really necessary?" _

_Ignoring Sam's question, Dean raises his eyes, tilting his head to challenge the angel. "You ever raised a kid?" _

_"No." _

_"Then shut up." _

_"Dean!" Sam's voice rises with warning, fingers pointing at the baby. "You can't curse-" _

_"Please Dad and I cursed around you all the time and you turned out fine." Dean gently ruffles the baby's hair making it more wild and untamed. The baby giggles even louder before, trying to wave her arms upwards to knock away Dean's hand. Finally, she notices the other member, eyes widening at the tall man tiny lips forming a perfect circle. Dean laughs quietly at her expression. _

_"Mr. Friendly Green Giant over there is Sammy. This little wild cat is Eve."_  
_

* * *

_

Crouching, Dean quickly runs the red lipstick over the cold linoleum floor painting a ward sigil. Above him, Cas remains stoic, blue eyes squinting past his arms, taking in the process as he holds the door closed. Meanwhile, the door shakes and rattles as the poltergeists scream to be let in. Behind them another scream of a different kind pierces the air. But all their efforts are useless against the angel's inhuman strength.

"Dean you need-"

Glaring hotly upwards, Dean snaps, "I know! Don't forget to dot the Is and cross the Ts." With two more swipes of the lipstick, he steps back and tosses the ruined stick off to the side. The rattles and screeching that once riddled the air are gone as the power of the ward flares to life.

Cas steps back lightly, wary of not smudging the sigil. "These are no ordinary poltergeists."

"No shit, Sherlock."

A soft groan fills the tiny bathroom enticing both to turn around at the same time. In two quick steps, Dean crouches by the bathtub where a young woman with short black hair plastered to her face lies in agony. Placing a hand on her forehead, he waits to see her eyes open and slowly come into focus. "Hey Melinda, we're gonna get you out of here."

"No…Rick…"

Dean tries to keep his face neutral. "Rick's dead."

Tears spill out onto pale sweating cheeks, "No."

Hating to see that grief-stricken face, Dean hisses quietly eyes blazing at the angel. "Get her out of here."

Cas crouches beside him, reaching out and gently lays a hand on her round stomach. Another spasm trembles the woman's body. Face tightening, the angel turns to face Dean. "I can't. She's too far into labor. If I transport her now, her and child's life will be in danger. Neither might make it."

Dean wants to scream and it's as if the poltergeists outside sense his rage, the walls of the tiny guest bathroom start rattling. "Then what the hell are we suppose to do? Dad sure as well didn't cover this and I doubt you can pull a Normal."

The tilt gave away his confusion. Dean sighs, "Dark Angel…never mind. Alright let's just focus on roasting these evil sons-of-bitches."

"You know we can't," presses Cas. "The bags and sigils can only handle one poltergeist at a time, let alone not when they're growing stronger due to the Apocalypse."

"I swear, every case I pick…I feel like Kevin Bacon." Dean lays down his rifle, and begins to pat his pockets to get his cell. "Maybe Bobby knows how to deliver a baby." When Cas doesn't respond, he looks back up hands stalling in his pockets.

To his left, Cas is shuffling off his coat and blue suit jacket. Rolling up his white sleeves, Cas fixes his eyes on Dean's blank face. "I have been present at some births, Dean."

"Name one?"

"Moses."

"You mean the guy who parts the sea with a stick?"

The annoyed look silences Dean. "His birth wasn't difficult…" then under his breath, the angel actually murmurs, "It was the crocodiles." Cas takes one more look at the tub and gives a curt nod. "I know how to do this." Leaning over the edge, he turns on the facet, letting water begin to fill the tub. "Take your coat off Dean, you need to get behind Melinda and support her, so she doesn't slide around too much."

"This is crazy, Cas! Come on, can't you use your mojo!" Dean feels himself begin to tremble. Besides them, Melinda pants quickly, her white nightgown beginning to float in the half-filled tub.

The way Cas's lips thin, the corner of his eyes scrunching ever so slightly answers Dean's question. His angel would be able pull it off, but Cas couldn't risk going full-on angel without some injury or whiplash to them, especially with Melinda in such a state. Like he said, the poltergeist party wasn't normal and it might take more than a few spells or chants to wipe it all clean. If it's one thing Dean's learned about his friend, is that Cas likes to have a sound proof plan before rushing head long into any situation. And he needs time to think of a safe course of action.

Sighing loudly, Dean shucks off his coat kicking off his shoes. "Fine, Melinda you need to lean forward a bit." Sliding into the muke-warm water, he flops right behind her, her back pressed against his black shirt, hands clasping onto his knees.

Cas dips his fingers into water, muttering a quick cantation that Dean recognizes as a blessing. Then he takes off his own shoes, steps into the tub, hunching down in front of Melinda, raising her legs upwards, and planting her feet against his legs. He reaches out once more, placing that hand on her stomach, eyes going distant for a second. His voice is the epitome of calmness despite the wild storm mere inches away. "I need you to relax; Melinda or this will be painful for both you and the child."

"No," Melinda shakes her head as another labor pain overwhelms her, fingers digging into Dean's knees. Around them, the walls continue to rattle as evil prowls outside the tiny barrier. "I can't, I can't!"

Those blue eyes shift as Melinda arches into Dean a quiet plea resonating deeply. Dean swallows realizing that his role is more than just being an anchor. Bowing his head, he curses at how out of all the times he's hunted, that this has never happened before. Really, this type of stuff only happens in the movies. Melinda screams painfully right in his ear.

Gently folding her arms over her chest, he talks softly voice stuttering at the words. He doesn't know how to do this whole touchy feeling crap, yet here's Cas who thinks he's the master at it. "Melinda you gotta do this ok. We're here to help and Cas…he's an angel, so everything's going to be ok."

Her small frame trembles as she flicks her hazy eyes back and forth between the two men. "I can't…not when those things are out there."

Dean feels the words die on his tongue. He couldn't argue with that, for really why would a mom want to bring her child into such a world knowing that evilness lurks around the corner. Then he remembers Mary and knows why. His own arms slowly begin to tighten around the shaking woman.

He's at a total lose and it's like being back in at the motel room arguing with Sam or holed up in that gilded cage yelling at Cas. He doesn't know how to soothe people, that's Sam's job. Screw the words, Dean wants to scream, to lunge out of that tub grab his gun and try to banish the ghosts.

Then Cas's voice rumbles in the silence pulling his and Melinda's attention to him. It's strange seeing Cas without his coat, with both the pants and shirt soaking through. Yet it's also comforting to see a slim man with such calmness. "Eve."

"What" chokes out Dean, "the hell are you blabbering about now?"

Melinda sniffs and takes in a shaky breath as she finds a little peace between the labor spasms. Cas licks his lips, cupping his hands underneath the water entranced at the small ripples. "Eve had it worse…wild animals, demons, pagan gods…all of the supernatural world including Lucifer and Michael clashed over to witness or destroy the birth of your kind." The angel raises his eyes and Dean feels a sense of ancientness wash over them. Melinda seems to relax as she finds her interest piqued, realizing the significance of this story no one knows about it.

"A-and?"

Fixing that penetrating stare onto her, Dean's surprised to see them soften ever so slightly. "She gave life, despite the broken trust and betrayal." Dean can't help but feel those words are directed at him. "My father forgave them and his love protected them from harm."

Dean hears Melinda take in a deep breath as she shifts her body in a more stable position between the two men. Her trembles cease, lips fixed in a thin line. "A-alright…"

He can't remember much after that; kept holding Melinda steady as she pushed and Cas's quiet presence maintaining a sense of detachment while the sigils hold. He ponders over the significance of those last words in the story. Was his love for Sam that strong? Sure it was in the past but that was before…now he doesn't know. He tried to protect Sam, but could he do that when it was clear that Sam didn't want it? Both wanted a life apart from each other, but Dean ponders was it really a life when he felt usually cold and distant when he was alone? When the warmth of humanity only warmed his bones when Cas was around? Whenever he thought about how Sam would have liked that bookstore or if this salad sounded any good?

The sound of water splashing shakes Dean out his thoughts as a tiny wail bounces off the tiles. Melinda slumps against him, passed out but there's a content smile on her flushed cheeks. To the side, he watches with silent awe as Cas holds a tiny bundle in his arms soothing away the screaming while drying gently and then wrapping it in a white towel before covering it with his own tan coat. Lifting himself slightly, cradling Melinda againgst him Dean reaches to open the drain, the water running off of him, plastering his own clothes to his body. As the water gurgles out of existence, he picks up Melinda setting her softly against the carpet, propping her against the porcelain side.

He grabs another towel drying her off quickly before yanking his own dark green coat and draping it over her shoulders to ward off the cold. They need to get to a hospital pronto even if that was an hour ago.

Yet as he's about to snap that command, Dean can't say anything, can't breath because he's too fixed on Cas's face. How those blue eyes are wide with wonder, his arms holding that tiny little bundle with such care as if he's afraid he might drop it or break it somehow. He stops in front of Dean within a hair's breath and that's when the older Winchester notices the slight tremble in the angel's form.

"Cas," he whispers.

The angel's lips barely move. "You're so fragile and small...but burn with such intensity."

Dean lowers his eyes, arms raising with an old knowledge as Cas lays the bundle of a little baby girl with plump red cheeks, a button nose and tiny little fingers curled over the edge of the coat. And as he holds that baby for the first time, he remembers another whose life is even more precious despite all the bad decisions.

"This is what is worth fighting for?"

He tries to fight back the chock rising in him. Cas is staring at him with worry and concern. It's another rarity for the angel to let his mask slip for even a second.

Swallowing, Dean nods with a rasp, staring deep into those familiar blue seas. "Yeah."

Cas's face hardens with that cold certainity of a soldier and Dean knows that the angel finally has a plan. "Then cover your eyes."

Without pause, Dean crouches over Melinda, tucking the baby close to his chest shielding the mother and child. Lowering his own head, eyes squeezed shut; Dean hears the crackle of lightening, the sharp burn of ozone and the searing sensation of an angel's grace erupt out of the tiny haven banishing away all the evil monsters.

____

* * *

_Sam soaks in the name, watching as Dean jams the keys into Cas's hand while muttering. "I give up." ___

_"Cas, you're here!" _

_A light voice vibrates the air as a woman bounds up to the trio. Her matching orange shirt has a slight wet stain on her shoulder. The smell of spoiled milk is light, but present nonetheless. Cas merely blinks in response, "Hello Melinda." _

_Huffing, Melinda tucks a loose strand of hair from her bun behind her ear, black eyes shining with amusement. "Still all proper I see, that's good to know." She cocks her head slightly, taking in the mess behind the shifting hunter. Dean spares a glance over his shoulder a shy smirk making itself known. _

_"Cas did it." _

_The exasperated look Cas sends Dean is a perfect contrast to the playful one on Dean's face as the Winchester crouches down to place all the strewn items back into the large bag. Melinda shakes her head turning to face Sam. Jutting out her hand, she smiles warmly, the joy and beauty of a mother radiating off of her. "Melinda." _

_Sam smiles in return, shaking her hand slightly. "I'm-" _

_"Sam, I know." The puzzled expression makes Melinda chuckle softly. "Your brother told some entertaining stories about when you were a baby on the way to the hospital." _

_"Oh?" Sam spares a glance to the side, Dean struggling to make everything fit in the bag while Cas watches in interest. Eve has managed to finally wiggle her hands inside the angel's shirt. _

_"My house was run by a few poltergeists. My husband Rick was killed," a dark look passes over her face, grief tightening her voice, "but Dean and Cas came in just before I was next. We couldn't leave so we barricaded ourselves in the bathroom. Let's just say when the coast was clear, there was an extra passenger and I woke up in the car the whole thing over with." _

_Fear dancing across her face, Melinda takes a step forward. "There's no monster here is there?" _

_Wrestling with the zipper, Dean stares up at the mom that confident expression in full force. "Nothing to worry about, just a little ghost Sam and I can't handle." _

_Cas quickly adds, "The sign I branded you and Eve with will protect you from any harm." _

_"Right," Melinda rubs her breastbone absently, "Forgot about that." Then the fear eases away. "Alright, Eve time go home. Grandpa is probably grumbling about where we're at." _

_"Ha-ha!" Dean holds up the bag victoriously, handing it back to Melinda who swings it with ease over her shoulder. _

_Eve shakes her head, her hand bringing the object she finally found to her mouth. Cas reaches upwards tugging the item out of her grasp. "No little one." He places the keys into her hand, "These are more useful." Shifting he passes Eve to her mother and as he does Sam catches sight of what Eve was after. Dangling on the same black cord is the horned amulet. _

_He knows Cas needs it to find God, but he remembers the mind-numbing shock of when Dean handed the necklace over. Dean never took it off treasuring it. So to see it again stirs that black pot as he realizes once again that Dean trusts Cas more than him. And it angers Sam. _

_Biting back his rush of emotions, Sam tries to stay focused as Melinda tucks Eve to her side, smiling in gratitude towards the pair. "Thanks again for everything." _

_Dean shrugs his shoulders, "It's our job." _

_"Still thanks," Turning to face the street, Melinda waves at them, Eve sniffling in regret. "It's nice to meet you Sam." _

_Sam nods slightly, "Same here." _

_"Take care than. Say goodbye Eve." _

_Sadness gone in a blaze of happiness, Eve blabbers something waving her hand holding the keys to them. Dean laughs waving back, "See ya sweetheart!" He elbows Cas lightly in the ribs, in which Cas does a tiny flick of his wrist. "Eve." _

_Eve continues to wave goodbye long after Melinda reaches the sidewalk and crosses the street back into the row of houses. Sam rolls his shoulders wanting to move on when he pauses once again. Dean's grinning like a maniac, that dark cloud constantly hovering over him parting ways to allow a true blinding light blaze from behind his tired eyes. _

_"Dude you were just molested by a three-month old!" _

_Cas merely ignores Dean, gently tucking the amulet back underneath his shirt. "Eve is…very social." _

_"Hey," leaning in, Dean bumps his shoulder playfully against Cas, waiting till those confused yet wary eyes look up at him. It seems the angel is learning that when Dean's like this, nothing good ever happens. "You should totally go after Melinda. I mean, you already got the whole saved your life gig and Eve likes you!" _

_A blush rises on Cas's face as his chest seems to puff out with indignation. "I will not exploit this acquaintance with Melinda, Dean. She is not like Chastity from the red house." _

_And as that golden amulet disappears, Sam remembers something else and it pushes away the resentment. The angel was doing what he thought was right, looking for the loophole called God while protecting the brothers' back and if he needed the amulet, so be it. Because if anything else, if it made Dean grin like this then Sam realizes he can be on board with that and try to adjust to these little changes._

_**A/N:** Later alligators_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Candice Olson is from the HGTV show called "Divine Design", just in case you're wondering. And just in time for the Fourth of July weekend :)

**Chapter 6: A dash of angel mojo is like a spoonful of sugar, to help the medicine go down. **

_Since that day in the park, things have been quiet and Sam feels as if they finally are falling back into their old grove, minus or adding a couple new twists. The jealously of Dean and Cas's slowly growing friendship disappears slowly, but he still can't help fight the stinging feeling of being a third wheel. It's clear the two went on hunting jobs during the separation and Sam feels as if he's missed out on a major plot reveal, while the rest of world knows. If anything, it just goes to show how different they are now. _

_Sliding the steaming plastic soup bowl in front of his brother, Sam plops down across from him, mindful of not spilling any of his own all over the case files. They're tracking some strange creature that hitchhikes along I-70, killing truck drivers by eating their eyes, ears and tongues. Nothing else but that was all they had. Dipping his spoon in and out to let out the steam, Sam raises his eyes noting the paling look on Dean's face. "Dean, you ok?" _

_"It's chunky." Dean mutters. He's been in a bad mood all day, drinking from the bottle non-stop. This behavior only stems from those nights when the nightmares of the Pit are too much to handle. It's one of those things that has almost become normal and it twists Sam's stomach uneasily. _

_"Yeah," Sam frowns, "Thought you liked Chunky Beef stew, said it was a manly soup." Sam's words die in the air as Dean stumbles out of his chair, grabbing his coat and throwing himself outside. The door rattles in the frame from the intense force of the slam. _

_Biting back a frustrated sigh, Sam slowly grabs his own coat and takes a step out into the drizzling parking lot buying Dean time to collect himself. Scanning, he immediately spots the glistening Impala parked not far away. More importantly, peeking slightly above the hood is the spiky hair of his brother. _

_Stepping out onto the cold pavement, Sam huffs in irritation making his way to the Impala. Only his brother would be stupid enough to sit on the wet tarmac. He already can picture the whining that would happen if Dean got sick. Stopping at the other side of the hood, Sam fidgets quietly. He doesn't know what he's going to say. Not really knowing what set his brother off, all he knows is this little thing clearly has something to do with the chunky soup. _

_Then it hits him like a ton of bricks, Chuck's voice breaking through his mind in a feeble tone about Cas and chunky soup exploding like a balloon. Squeezing his eyes shut, he leans forward, welcoming the pin pricks of cold water against his palms as they rest against the hood. "Dean...I didn't...I'm sorry." _

_Dean doesn't respond, but that head sags even lower, the scrap of cloth against the rough surface signaling how far his brother is trying to hide from the world. _

_

* * *

_"This is dangerous."

"How is this dangerous man?" Dean tosses his arms outwards as if encompassing the whole Mississippi River. Black water ripples in the warm night air, lapping against the old foundations of the bridge. Behind them, cars drive slowly trying to catch a glimpse at the event. Above, people clap, swinging legs off the railroad tracks, not afraid that at any moment a train might come clattering around the bend. "This is freakin fantastic!"

"The boat can catch fire, not to mention all those other boats out there." Another loud thump emits from the barge, the crowd gasping in anticipation.

"They're fine, Cas." Waving his hand, "Even though they don't know the difference between demons and shape shifters, the police will make sure nothing goes wrong."

The sky explodes once more into a large array of colors. Dean grins as the loud boom rattles his ears. This is awesome. One of the best fireworks ever and it didn't help that they got a great view from the bridge. Red explodes once more in what appears to be the shape of a heart, its reflection shimmering off of the smooth black muddy river.

Pushing himself slightly away from the railing, Cas shakes his head as two children run behind them, yelling at their parents to hurry up, waving around the bright white sparklers. "I still don't understand this holiday, Dean. Why do people want to watch gunpowder explode or play with fire crackers and trace their names in the air?"

"Because it's the Fourth of July, dude." Dean shifts comfortably against the rail, making room for the parents to squeeze by, apologies written on their faces. Smiling in understanding, the hunter fixes bright green eyes on his companion. "America won its independence, it's summer time and you can eat all the barbeque food you want. It's a big party!"

Cas still has that look of confusion on his face as he turns back to the show, hearing the loud thump when another rocket shoots into the air. A large firework explodes in the night sky, blooming into a huge circle that seems to tower over the bridge, showering them in a light of gold. A deep resonating rumble rattles into him from the tip of his toes to the tip of his wings, as the sparks fade out of existence. The crowd gasps and laughs, clapping their hands and begging for more.

Dean, though, watches as something distant falls over the confusion. "Cas?"

The angel leans forward once more, draping his forearms over the rail. Tilting his head, red and yellow streams of light blaze across blue eyes. A blue ribbon twists and turns as green explodes to life in its wake. Off to the side another burning golden orb blooms, the blinding light showering over the waters.

The children's laughter and giggles on how that one looks like a flower, the other looks like a pair of lips and oh look there's Saturn, blend in the angel's mind to the ringing of his kindred.

Dara's thundering voice crashes waves upon waves of ocean against the shores, calling out the names of angels that will rescue the soul named Dean Winchester. How while the rest of the garrison lay siege to the gates of Hell, forty chosen will break through and begin their long mission into the Pit.

Tortured souls scream and shriek as they burn alive on the racks when an angel passes too close. Demons growl and hiss throwing themselves mindlessly, their blackness smothering any light from the intruders. Anai is on the forefront throwing spell after spell into the demon hordes, her spinning purple essence slicing a clear path. She fizzles out slowly, her last grace pulsing out to blast open Alistair's cloak covering Dean.

The twin Ardarel erupts in a fiery ball, his grace exploding in the inky green sky, streams of gold piercing every demon. It is enough to wipe out an entire battalion, enough for the rest of them to flee the ambush and continue onwards with their mission.

Farun's pulsing red form flickers with utter rage, as he rips apart a demon whose pinning Castiel to a rack, razor fingers clawing at the ash covered wings. He can only thank him with his eyes when Farun's grinning smirk drops. Ruby and sapphire eyes lower taking in the dripping wet pitchfork. Castiel barely has time to fly himself to a safe distant before Farun's form explodes like a mini supernova, his wings surrounding his grace like a ring protecting his comrades as best as he can.

Sweet Bae is one of the last, her beautiful earthly green wings combusting into flames as they race upwards, Castiel in the center holding a shrieking soul in his arms. Face covered in blood, ashes and tar she smiles a warm smile up at him. "Protect him Castiel." It's as if she knows something that he doesn't, her eyes scrunching in pity for the both of them. Then she falls streaking downwards her grace and wings slamming into the wires, hooks and racks before winking out of existence.

"Cas. Cas!"

Forty entered the Pit. Only twelve returned.

Blinking Castiel raises his head, feeling the tight squeeze of his vessel. The stench of the Pit and the corruption tightens his stomach in an uneasy manner. Dean's hand, he can't remember when it was placed there, pushes him slightly against the railing till he's bending over staring into the murky water of the Mississippi River.

He feels the heated gaze of Dean's eyes darkening into a shade of green that tinged the Pit's sky. "You with me, buddy?"

Tilting his head, he stares into Dean's face blown out with worry. Dean stares back. And just like that the outside world doesn't exist, a full conversation of silent questions and unanswered prayers carrying behind their eyes.

"I'm fine." Castiel's voice is so soft Dean barely hears him over the explosions and laughter. The hunter's eyes narrow, the planes of his face darkening in deep shadows as red light douses over them. The angel can hear in his head Dean's voice snapping out "_Bullshit_." It's as clear as the voices of his distant family.

Before him, lips thin as Dean keeps his mouth shut, fixing a cold stare back up at the light show. He won't push, knowing full well sometimes it's best to leave it alone. It's something Sam still needs to learn, but his brother was getting there. Dean wasn't the sharing type and it seems neither is Cas. But Dean also knows that when he felt ready, Cas would come and confide in him. And he would be here for him. Until then, he can try to enjoy the last of the show.

Castiel follows Dean's lead, turning his gaze upwards, the carefree attitude of before exploding into the fine dust of gunpowder. As colors blaze to life, dancing between the stars and soft glows of the cities, he thinks he hears Bae singing softly during a tiny pause in their journey. Ardarel is fussing over Anai healing her weakening grace with his own; their love warming the ice-cold temperature of the space in which they fly through. Farun is reorganizing the remaining angels to fill in the gaps of those who died, trying to make their tiny squad last a bit longer as they seek Dean Winchester.

"_I thought only an angel can kill another angel,_" whispers Castiel to Farun one night, as they discuss strategic moves to dodge another hoard of demons. Farun's face tightens, his brow furrowing as the fear that the demons have found a way to kill them flashes darkly over his face. But then it's schooled and that strong confidence is back. "_Guess we thought wrong, brother_."

Dara's last words, before he was killed during the siege and Zachariah becoming his superior, warms Castiel's dying grace. "_This is it. The end is coming and the demons will do everything in their power to break the Righteous Man. You must stop them. We cannot let the First Seal be broken. I should ask the aid of the archangels to find this Dean Winchester. But our Father commands that it must be you chosen forty to enter enemy territory. Do not lose faith_." He pauses before squaring his shoulders, golden wings spanned out in their full glory.

"_You will face doorways to doubt, but stay strong. Many of you will not make it, but remember, you fight to save not only Dean Winchester but that of mankind. Do not fail_."

And Castiel knows he's failing, feels it thrumming deep into his bones as the sky darkens black with the moans of disappointment from the crowd. Smoke creeps over the choppy water, bringing with the stench of burnt powder and rotting wood. Lips thinning, Castiel straightens his shoulders, determination and a stubborn streak that's growing a mile a minute flaring to life in him. Pushing away his grief, he makes a decision and he will not shy away from his course.

He won't fail. Not tonight.

Dean grunts in sadness, "Guess it's over, thought there'd be a big finale." As if hearing him, the boat thrums in a multitude of eruptions. Dean jerks backwards, dropping all his masks revealing a surprised young face.

Leaning back, a grin dashing across his face, Dean soaks in the rapid explosions of all colors, shapes and sounds. Next to him, watching quietly, Castiel's fingers twitch underneath the rail, scattering certain colorful strands of powder into a dazzling spin as if they were dancing across the sky. Another blast, he tweaks the colors of red and green making them blaze even brighter and longer.

"Holy shit!" Dean's screaming out his joy, "Dude, this is-" He pauses as he takes in the tiny twitches. Cas blinks at him with an innocent expression as if he just wasn't caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It was getting a bit redundant Dean," states Castiel in his precise tone.

At that, a loud hearty laugh bursts from Dean's chest. With a powerful smack on Cas's upper back, Dean shakes his head. "Who'd a thought..." Then a wolfish, challenging grin lightens his eyes with their own fireworks. "Show me what you got, Candice Olson."

Castiel's eyes widen slightly in his version of the eye roll before fixing back onto the explosive finale. Fingers drawing out certain fireworks, while changing the design of others, Dean whistling between his fingers, the crowd joins in with a loud roar. It's enough to drown out the screams and sneers of the angels...for now.

* * *

_"Look man, I'll dump the soup and order some pizza, ok. But it's getting cold and if you keep sitting out here, you're gonna get sick." Sam fights the urge to march over to the other side and grab Dean, but he knows that right now privacy is something his brother needs. _

_Silence fills the air and as a couple minutes trickle by, Sam decides to head back in. As if sensing his departure, Dean's voice spills out from over the ridge. It's a hollow voice cracking and shredded in places he doesn't want to know. _

_"I broke the first seal." _

_Sam feels as if his breath is knocked out of his chest. "Wh-" _

_But Dean is lost to his world, something in his voice devoid of anything. It's a cruel reminder that his brother, even though he doesn't flaunt it or tremble in some corner, is still in the steel grip of post-traumatic stress. "A righteous man sheds blood in hell...because I couldn't stay strong, because I'm weak..." _

_"Dean, it isn't your fault." _

_"I started the Apocalypse, not you. And because of me, people are dying. Angels are dying...Cas already did once..." _

_Sam takes a step to the left, enough to round the corner when Dean's voice pierces his chest. "If I had stayed on the rack, you wouldn't have had to drink demon blood, wouldn't have to worry about Lilith and the seals...you wouldn't have broken the last seal if I had said no. You wouldn't have had to suffer." _

_Sliding onto the ground, the metal grill digging into his back, Sam curls his legs up to his chest, tears glistening on his cheeks. "It's not your fault, Dean." God, how could his brother do this to himself? He was already breaking at the seams with just thinking about freeing Lucifer and starting the Apocalypse, of betraying his brother. But this, what Dean was doing to himself, taking all of Sam's own guilt onto his shoulders? It's insane. "Dean, it's my fault too." He needs to let Dean know he's not alone, that he doesn't need to shoulder the weight by himself. _

_Then the metal guitar riff fills the air, breaking the tiny moment. Sam quickly wipes his face clean as Dean answers in a tight voice. "Hey Cas." _

_Sam peers over his shoulder taking in the bumps and fading black ink on the license plate. _

_"No, you didn't just wake me up. Hey, why don't you swing by in an hour and we'll grab a beer or something. K." The soft click ends the conversation. "Sam." The one word is full of emotion, of something that made them brothers in an era before demons, angels and Hell. _

_He swallows, not sure if he can trust himself to speak. He's lost, a wheel stuck in a rut until Dean's voice is right above him. Jerking up, he slams into the grill as Dean towers over him, his face the same as ever, except for a tiny scowl and a slight puffiness around his eyes. _

_"You're gonna get sick, princess." A flash of irritation with a glint of mocking in his eyes, "Come on, I'm hungry, lets order some pizza." And with that said, Dean pivots on his foot walking calmly back to the room, as Sam rises and follows him out of the rain. It's as close to as a thank you he'll get in Dean language, but somehow it's enough for Sam...at least for now._

**A/N: **Well have a great Fourth of July Weekened. Don't worry, I'll be updating tomorrow as well but decided to throw in an early Yipee.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hi again everyone :) Here's another chapter. One things for sure, I got to get use to this new ff. format. Things sure have changed. I went back and noticed on one of the chapter, the intro part was all lumped into one big paragraph, not cool. So fixed that. Oh and I guess I should forewarn you all, we're nearing the end. I've only written ten of these to encompass this story. Glad you are all enjoying the ride as I much as I am.

**Chapter 7: Sometimes a mere kiss can't make it better.**

_Things ease up after that little confession in the parking lot. The tension is lifting off their shoulders and Dean is back to his perky self. It's sickingly familiar but Sam is ok with it. It means that Dean is starting to treat him like a brother instead of some druggie and with that it might mean he is beginning to trust him as well. _

_That there's still hope. _

_And it makes him halt. This foreign feeling of hope, standing outside, watching with his hands full of Chinese take-out as Dean angles the chair by the table in such a manner that its back is to the door. Just so, that the person sitting can gaze out of the window. Then his brother places the small med-kit and a bar of soap out on the table, lining them up as if preparing for someone to use them. But neither are injured, so it could only mean one thing. _

_Castiel might be hurt. But that can't be because he's an angel and the last time Sam checked, the guy healed himself up a blink of an eye. Still, the guy said he was losing his power, but Sam can't read him like Dean can. All those tiny motions on a still marble face and cryptic words baffle him. He doesn't know if he's offending the angel every time he speaks. And it's only worse when Cas only stares at Dean, as if his brother is the angel's entire world. _

_That lost third-wheel feeling swells in him as he watches Dean scratch at his head ideally. A scrunched up expression lining his face as he runs through the check-list to see if he has everything_.

_Sam steps into the room as Dean pulls out an old black tee, the barely distinguishable stain of what was once BBQ still present at the bottom. "Something up?" _

_Dean spins upwards in surprise, a guarded stance falling over him. Green eyes flash over to the table. "Nah, just doing inventory. We need more gauze, iodine and sutures; you think you can make another run?" _

_Sam places the Chinese food on top of the TV, not liking how Dean's fingers are curling over the edges of the shirt. "You ok? Did something happen to Cas?" _

_At the mention of the angel's name, Dean's eyes snap upwards darkening in a look of hurt, anger and a protective fire that Sam remembers. "Cas is fine." The words are clipped, "I just think we need some supplies. I've already took a shower and you still got the keys." _

_Sam raises his hands in defensive, not sure how to approach his brother like this. "Ok, I'll go. Just...I'm here if you need help. I'm worried about Cas too." As those words leave his mouth, Sam realizes how true it is. Despite the awkward and off-beat interactions, he cares enough of the angel because Dean cared and that the angel had died for them. "Let me know-" _

_Dean's teeth are bared, shoulders rising upwards as his fingers sink into a death grip in the shirt. "It's not Cas, Sam," he snaps, "Cas is like the living embodiment of the liquid Terminator. He still has enough mojo to heal himself. He doesn't need a med kit." The last word punctures into the air like a shot. _

_Nodding, Sam reaches for the door knob, "Ok, ok I get it. Gauze, iodine and sutures. Gotcha. If anything more comes up, call me." With that, he leaves the room again, door closing softly behind him, keys dangling from his fingers as Dean's denial is echoed by the slamming of a chair hard into the table. _

* * *

Cas stumbles into the room, quiet grace and dignity gone the moment his feet touch the ground. Blood seeps from the deep slice on his upper right arm and try as he might, he can't heal it as fast as he would like. It had been too close this time. Closing his eyes, he can still smell the searing stench of ozone as he wills the red stain out of his coat sleeve, the distinct click and turn of key signaling the turn of the knob.

A few precious seconds later, Dean waltzes into the room, arms full of grocery supplies, his car keys dangling out of his mouth. Grunting a hello, he kicks the door shut. Tonight, he's going to see if Cas likes hoagies and if not, well there was enough for him. Setting the groceries on the table, he begins to settle in for the night. "Dark Knight is on tonight," he tosses a can of beer to the angel who catches it somewhat stiffly.

"Dark Knight?"

Cas's voice is tight, but Dean merely narrows his eyes, "Yeah. It's Batman. He's like the number one superhero out there. Kicks the Joker's butt...You ok?"

"I'm fine." A snap hiss fills the room as Castiel cracks open the can. "What is this Batman's superpowers?" He knows already from the drives that there is a Spiderman with web slinging abilities, Superman who can fly and some green giant named the Hulk.

"He doesn't have any, just an ordinary guy against a bunch of crazy supernatural baddies. Then again most of the criminals he fights are just the run of the mill wack jobs, except Catwoman, she's one hot..." Dean's voice trails off as he spots a tiny red droplet dripping off of Cas's fingers. "You're bleeding."

Castiel's eyes fall down, taking in the sight. "It's nothing."

"Yeah right, knowing you, your arm probably has to be almost cut off before you deem it 'of import.'" Reaching out, Dean yanks the can away, placing in on the table as he pushes the angel into the chair. "Take off the coat, I want to see."

"Dean," Cas's voice is huffed quietly in the tone Dean is learning that means to let it go.

The stern gaze is one Dean hasn't pulled out in a long while, not since Sam was a teenager and didn't want to learn how to clean a gun. It's a look that he remembers vaguely his mom using on his dad whenever he did something wrong. It's that stern, no nonsense 'evil eye' he rarely used to calm down John Winchester when things got too heated. And now he's fixating it on an Angel of the Lord.

Castiel shifts slightly, cradling his arm lightly to his chest, his gaze not breaking away. Then Dean merely leans into his personal space, eyes softening ever so slightly with an unspoken plea. It's enough. Cas drops his shoulders ever so gently, but it's a green light for Dean. He quickly reaches to latch onto the lapels of both the trench coat and business suit jacket. "Take 'em off."

Leaning forward, the angel carefully bends his arm through the sleeves as Dean shimmies the jackets off his right arm. "Might as well go all the way." Cas doesn't say much, just removes his left arm leaving Dean with an armful of jackets. Yet, those green eyes don't spare a single glance at them as he throws them off to the side, where they miraculously land on the bed. All the hunter sees is the red-soaked white sleeve.

Nibbling at the corner of his lip, Dean swallows hard. "Take the shirt off as well. With that much blood, you'll need stitches." Turning, Dean squats down and ruffles through the bag, grabbing the first aid kit. Behind him, Cas is working his way through the buttons.

"It'll be fine in an hour at most," Castiel speaks firmly as he untucks his arm from the sleeve, painting the pale flesh red. Dean sets the kit down on the table and with a spare rag; he begins to press down on the wound. Right away, he feels the warm liquid seep and spread underneath his fingers.

Dean sees through Cas's attempt of hiding the pain by merely squinting. A protective flare rises in him, "Hold onto that." Cas listens and he walks briefly over to the sink to get a fresh towel and a bowl of water. He doesn't know why or how, all Dean knows is that this is like dealing with Sam all over again. How every time his annoying little brother tries to hide the wounds or fix them himself, when in the end he'd cause more damage.

Walking back, he dips the towel in the water and begins to clean the wound. It's a long clean deep cut from Cas' upper arm down to almost his elbow at an almost forty-five degree fashion. Dabbing along the edges, Dean feels his eyes soak in each muscle tendon, nerve and blood vessel. He knows human anatomy perfectly now. Knows, a tiny part whispers, how if he pressed at this tiny bundle right here it would send Cas screaming in pain.

He ignores the voice.

Cas merely watches him, his face slightly darkened in concentration. "I thought it would be worse."

Dean ignores the angel, as blood begins to flow out of the wound once more. Pressing down with the towel, he shakes his head at the comment. "See that med-kit?"

Cas gazes over his arm, spotting the green box. "Yes."

"Grab it," Dean orders.

Cas gazes at Dean, "Dean-"

A cold expression falls over Dean' face, but those green eyes blaze with fury. It only takes a second for Cas to grab the box and set it on his lap. Popping open lid, Dean rants quietly under his breath about stupid angels as he pulls out a needle and black string. "This might sting a bit."

"I highly doubt it," echoes back as he slips the string through the eye of the needle.

Placing the bloody towel on the table, Dean nods and pierces the first smooth edge, travels across the smooth clean cut before piercing the other side. "So what happened?"

Cas turns his attention away from the needle to take in the dark black screen of the TV. "The movie's about to begin."

Dean scowls, "Screw the movie. Tell me what happened, cause I've seen a lot of knife wounds and none of them were ever like this."

The warmth of Cas's breath tickles the hairs on Dean's neck. He hunches a bit more and begins to sew the wound closed. "One of my brothers caught sight of me at an old sacred site up in the Netherlands."

"You telling me, your brother did this to you?" Anger begins to boil in Dean's blood. Really, the more he learnt about angel society, the more he hated their guts. All of them were a bunch of dicks with wings, cold heartless sons of bitches who didn't even blink an eye in shedding the blood of their own. Wasn't there some commandment from God saying that it was wrong to kill your own brother?

Tilting his head, Castiel watches Dean's fingers gently dance back and forth, tying off each stitch before going off to stitch the next one. "No. He was merely..." Cas bits back a hiss when Dean reaches that tiny bundle. Eyes flying upwards, Dean feels the words of apology fall onto his tongue but Cas merely locks dark steel onto him. Licking his lips, Dean flicks his gaze back down as Cas's ragged voice pushes onwards.  
"He was a scout. When I realized...it was too late and Ralphael was already there."

Dean's left hand curls tight around Cas's arm, fingers digging into the soft flesh, while the other tries to ease the trembling needle. "You stupid son of a bitch! Cas, you should have...he-"

"I did Dean," hisses back the angel, that same frustration slamming back. And Dean can't help but shrink slightly in its scope, losing himself in those rocky seas. "I don't need a reminder of what he did to me."

Castiel's left shoulder rolls back as if fidgeting or pushing back something unforeseen. A tiny breeze ruffles the curtains as long fingers curl over the med kit sitting forgotten on his knees. "I lost him. It is just...he...nicked me before I got away."

"Nicked?" Dean blinks incredulously, not sure if he just heard right, "Nicked you? Cas, this isn't a nick! He almost stabbed you with a sword! You could have died!"

The angel's lips thin, his face falling into a numb expression, eyes falling back down to the black string dangling on his skin as the anger drains out of him. Dean's fear and concern steaming from the outburst washes over him, tightening his chest with guilt. He doesn't know when Dean began to worry about him in such a fashion. It frightens Castiel but also warms the coldness that's been in him since his rebellion.

Dean sighs, taking in the withdrawn gaze and resumes stitching up the wound. "Just..." The words die, lips thinning and he doesn't say anything till the final stitch. Then he covers the stitches in white gauze to soak up the blood and ooze. Pushing upwards, his back cracks in retaliation. Stretching out, he rolls his shoulders quietly pointing out, "That should do it for now. Probably in an hour we'll need to change the dressing again."

Castiel wants to say that it won't be necessary, but he keeps his mouth shut. Dean picks up the bloody towels, throwing them away as he grabs the bowl to dump out the pink water. Instead he says, "Can I borrow a shirt?"

Dean pauses in mid-stride, turns to gaze over his shoulder face still stricken with unabashed worry "Yeah, take the black tee with the BBQ stain. It'd be good for the wound."

The angel nods as he shrugs the bloody shirt off and tosses it onto the pile of his other clothes.

An hour later, Dean sits to Cas's right changing the bandages, while Joker swings upside in the air laughing to his heart content in the background. At their feet, paper plates with bread crumbs and unfinished potato chips are pushed gently to the side. Castiel wasn't hungry, not even game enough to try the hoagies, content to drink from the bottle of orange juice Dean grabbed from the vending machine. He had wanted a beer to wash away the accusing glares of the scout or Raphael's depressed scorns. But Dean had said with the amount of blood he lost, it would be best to get some sugar into him.

Pulling back the gauze, both fixed their gazes at the wound that had yet to vanish. It wasn't bleeding anymore but still oozing and not an inch was fully closed. Dean stares worriedly up at Cas and the angel allows himself to reflect the unspoken fear. It should have been gone, blue eyes whisper; he had been carefully focusing his grace onto the wound during the movie. But it isn't, whispers back green eyes. And it scares the two of them more than the Apocalypse itself.

Nodding mutely, Dean places fresh bandages over the wound while Cas tucks his chin to his chest, eyes closing in mediation. Once the last layer is tucked gently in, Dean finds that he can't pull away. Taking in a deep breath, he shifts closer to the angel, almost curling into Cas's side. Lowering his own head, Dean rests his forehead just barely on Cas's shoulder, soaking in the soft breathing, warmth and the smell of evergreen woods realizing that a few hours ago he might have lost it.

His heart clenches tightly into his chest. He knows he can't bare to lose Cas...not again, not after everything they've been through. Not on some distant patch of Earth where Dean can't reach to patch him up. Curling his hands over Cas's arm, he softly presses against the holy wound, as if it would keep the disappearing grace in just for a little while longer.

* * *

_When he comes back, plastic bag full of supplies tossed onto the chair, Sam remains quiet. He spots the now smaller roll of bandages lying strewn on the table. The blood-stained needle glints in the dim light of the lamp. Clattering spills out into the main room, Sam pauses, fixing his gaze through the bathroom doorway. Inside, Dean is hunched over the sink, scrubbing his hands ruthlessly under steaming water. _

_He would joke that Dean's becoming Lady MacBeth, but somehow the words 'Out damn spot' seem more real than ever before._

**A/N: **Here's a cookie :) Until tomorrow and yes hello weekened.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Whew, made it. Almost forgot to update.

**Chapter 8: Even the best of friends get into fights**

_In another worn out, falling apart motel room Sam finds himself in, is built way back in the 80s and is beyond its prime. The theme is a hideous, blood red splashed against what is a poor excuse of peach leaning into pink. Faded strawberries and country designs tells of a warm Southern charm. _

_Flipping on the bathroom light, Sam grimaces at the chubby, flaking bears holding up dishes and green vines acting as towel hooks. The whole room screams chick, but it was the only motel in sight and the last one before a long 50 mile stretch in the Deep South. Sucking up their pain, the Winchesters decided to spend the thirty bucks and walk into the room with blinders on. It was only for one night, thank god. _

_Sam hears the riff of Dean's phone, a quick glance at his watch telling him its one thirty in the morning. Dean's voice is a low sharp growl. The words, "Sadly it ain't German," trickles through the frame. A soft 'K,' then the conversation is cut off. The phone clatters onto the table. _

_Zipping open the toiletry bag near, Sam raises an eyebrow in confusion as he pulls out a small lotion bottle. Unscrewing it, he takes a whiff of oranges and ponders why Dean even picked up this strange little thing. Sam leans out, screwing the top back on, wanting to call first dibbs on taking a shower. It'd be nice to have all the hot water for a change. But Dean's grumbling away, ruffling through his things as usually. Except, there's something new is added into the mix. Like Dean grabbing a few books on the supernatural and Revelations they borrowed from Bobby or collected over the years. _

_Strange, his brother hated research with a passion. But maybe, Cas finally got his brother to suck it up and crack open a book now and then. _

* * *

Louisa has seen many things enter through her double doors at her Bavarian style motel. The loud, thumping German band plays quietly in the background, as blue and red wallpaper runs underneath the fake carved designs of ski lodges. She's been at this job for over twenty five years and nothing has topped what is before her very eyes.

Two men stand in front of her. The one closet to her has a brown leather jacket, light brown hair sticking out in clumps, with green eyes locked onto her in a silent fuming mood. His companion stands slightly off to the side, the long beige trench coat cracking at every move he makes, blue eyes taking in her authentic carved wooden plates of each Bavarian state hanging over her head. Despite their differences, they're both caked in dry dirt with grass and twigs and what seems like sawdust sticking to their hair and clothes. Dark dirt streaks are smeared across their cheeks. And that isn't the worst because when the fan passes over them, she bits back a gasp. They smell like manure.

The green-eyed man sniffs loudly. "One room please." He grinds out between clenched teeth.

Louisa coughs lightly in her hand. "Something-"

"Nothing, just thought we'd check the barn out back," answers the man.

"Why?"

The blue eyed man steps forward, shoulder to shoulder with his partner. "We killed a were-"

The other man slaps him loud and hard on the chest, sending a cloud of dust, dried dirt and a fresh whiff of manure into the lobby. All the while cracking a smile at Louisa, he hands her the credit card. "Don't mind him; he's got a bit of a crazy imagination. Now that room, sweetheart, cause I would love to clean up."

Smiling shakily, Louisa pulls out the necessary paper work and gathers the key to room 25. "One king size bed good enough?"

The slightly taller man's green eyes grow wide, mouth falling open. His friend gives her a curt nod. "That would be nice, thank you."

"Alrighty then." As she reaches for the card, the shocked man slaps his hand over hers.

"No no, two doubles will be fine...or one single..." a blush deepens his already tanned cheeks. "No I meant two doubles, see we're not, I'm not."

"Dean."

The said man turns to fix his shocked eyes to the left, "Cas?"

Cas's blue eyes seem to darken slightly and for a split second, Louisa swears she feels electricity crackling between the two. It's intense.

Sighing loudly, Dean's shoulders sag as he breaks off the contact. Sliding his hand away, he mutters, "King's fine."

"Very well then," Louisa finishes the paper and hands the pair the key. "Enjoy your visit."

"Yeah, yeah," mumbles Dean as he swipes the key, grudgingly dragging his feet out the door towards the room.

Slamming open the door, Dean marches inside throwing his duffle bag onto the large bed, "I can't believe I agreed to this!"

Cas trails quietly behind him, gently shutting the door. "You'll be the only one sleeping here tonight, Dean. I do not see the problem."

Dean shots a heated glance over his shoulder, "She thinks we're a couple!" Throwing his bag on the bed, he stomps over and pokes Cas in the chest. As much as he would love to punch the guy, his hand still aches.

"I just thought you would enjoy a restful night sleep," states Cas, his voice ever calm while his face scrunches, trying to figure out why this was still a bad idea. "Does it really matter what Louisa thinks?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean kicks off his shoes and walks over to the bathroom, flicking the lights on. It's actually slightly larger than usual with nice towels and some pretty good orange smelling shampoo and soap.

Turning around, he sees Cas's shoulders straighten out and without a thought he lunges forward. Yanking the angel towards him, Dean glowers at him. "Oh hell no."

"Dean?" Cas's face is close to his, his face scrunching up in total bafflement. "What-"

"Like hell are you just flying off. You owe me and you can start by taking a shower. I don't trust your mojo enough to risk exposing my car again." Dean's fist tightens in the coat, his green eyes locking in a stare down.

This hunt was supposed to have been nice and simple and he thought that Cas might get a kick out it. But no, the werewolf had known they were after him and they had to give chase into the fields and backwoods through mud and upturn roots before corning the guy in the barn a few miles away from the motel. Let's just say is sucked, leaving Dean on edge from the lack of sleep and hunger.

Cas slumps his shoulders, a small frown forming on his face. He doesn't know if it should bother him at all if Dean knew he was about to take off or the feeling beginning to build deep in his stomach. "I offered to fly us here but you were very vocal in driving. And there is nothing wrong with my," pause, "mojo."

Yet they both know that's a bold faced lie. Each knows Cas didn't become clean within a blink of an eye because he was already coasting on fumes when he arrived. But neither speaks, instead hiding behind the clueless expression and snarky attitude.

"Dude, you have worn the same clothes for over a year! You've been shot, stabbed, blown up and rolling in manure. You're taking a shower and that's that." Dean begins to pull him towards the bathroom, Cas letting himself be dragged over the fact that it would cause more harm if he fought.

"I still don't see the need," rebukes Cas, his tone tightening. Immediately upon entering, his blue eyes fall onto the shower head, discomfort ruffling his frame.

Dean shakes his head, grabbing Cas by the wrist while using his other hand to turn on the shower. He really wants to take a hot shower, but he also really wants to wash his mud-caked baby. Hopefully with the windows cracked open, the smell will disappear by the morning.

He feels Cas fight against his grip, tightening it even more. Twisting around, Dean fights back exhaustion with a snappy tone. "Don't be such a baby, Cas."

"Dean." The angel draws out the name. All the while his blue eyes are fixed on the pounding hot water. For a moment, Dean can't help but think that angels are like cats, hating the water with all their might.

"You can't be serious, don't tell me you're afraid of water."

An offended look flashes over Cas's face and for a brief moment, Dean feels that he might have pushed it too far. "I'm not afraid of water."

"Good, cause you're going in." Dean locks his arm in such a way that if Cas would try to break free, he would injure him. And if Dean knows one thing, Cas doesn't want to hurt him.

"No, Dean."

"Come on man, we were in a middle of storm when we were talking to Raphael. You can handle a little stream of water!"

"Yes but in a storm, at least I have room. I do not understand why you humans like to confine yourselves in such small areas and drown under hot water."

"Cause it's relaxing, now suck it up!" Reaching out with his free hand, he yanks Cas closer to the stall. "Don't make me push you!"

Cas tries to pull away gently, jerking each way to break free without harming Dean. He would fly away, but that means dragging Dean with him. And the last thing he wants to hear is the hunter complaining about his bowel movements. "Dean, I'm warning you-" The said man twists his body suddenly, catching the angel off guard. In that split second, the hunter throws Cas into the shower stall.

The scalding blast of hot water pours down earning a yelp from the angel as his shoes skid on the wet tiles. Instincts kicking in, Castiel lashes out, grabbing a hold of Dean's coat as his shoes lose traction.

"Shit!" Dean curses loudly, falling with a hard thump at the other end of the tub as Cas collapses underneath the shower head. Rubbing his sore behind, he snaps, "My bum! Cas, I swear to God-" But his rant halts as his annoyance dissipates into a bubbling burst of laughter. In front of him, under the ruthless pounding of the water, Cas is sitting utterly drenched, black hair plastered his face, blue eyes blinking constantly to fight off the water.

Fighting to breathe, Dean grins widely at the scrunched up face of a displeased Cas. "You look like a drowned cat."

Cocking his head to the side, eyes narrowing into slits, Castiel raises two fingers and Dean's laughter ends abruptly. Fear shines in behind the green eyes. "Now, Cas, come on man, you gotta learn to-"

A swift flick of his wrist and the shower head tilts upwards firing water straight into Dean's face. "Gah, Cas!" spluttering out mouth full of water, arms swiping away the water from the onslaught, Dean tries to find cover. "Okay, okay I get your point!"

Then the water is gone leaving behind a bellowing steam cloud. Wiping the water from his own drenched face, Dean spits out another mouthful, glaring at the angel across from him. "Idiot, it's just a shower!"

"I told you, I was fine," snaps back Cas, the unpleasant experience letting his tiredness rear its ugly head for the first time. The hunt for his lost father has not been going well and his growing disappointment is becoming hard to handle. Not to mention his feathers are utterly drenched.

"You smelled like manure! That ain't fine!" Dean snaps back, his own exhaustion roaring loudly in his head.

"If you had not moved like I told you too, the boards would not have broken and we would not have fallen into the pile."

"Well sorry, if I was busy trying to kill a werewolf, unlike someone I know."

"You're the one who asked me to join you on this hunt."

"That's because you're looking all pathetic in searching for a guy who doesn't want to be found!" Just as the words flew out of his mouth, Dean's eyes grow wide with shock. Crap, he just didn't bring up the Daddy issue. "Cas, I-"

Blue eyes harden and the air seems to drop a few degrees. "I believe I'm clean now."

Swallowing, Dean leans forward wanting to reach out, "I didn't-" In a loud snap of wings, Cas is gone leaving behind a brief shower of muddy water raining down on the hunter. Lowering his hand, Dean hangs his head, self-loathing tightening his shoulders. "Idiot."

It isn't till the next day as Dean lies in the massive king bed staring at the snow peppered ceiling, that maybe, just maybe he should call the angel and apologize. In a way, last night had been their first fight as friends. Sure they had argued about moral dilemmas, right and wrongs, but that came with the turf in dealings between humans and angels. But last night's argument was something he might have had with Sam, when both were too tired and high-strung after a hunt gone wrong. It was a basic friendship dilemma and instead of shutting up, he had pushed the other into something he didn't want to do.

Because in the end, Cas had been looking out for Dean, even if he didn't want it. The king size bed, despite the embarrassing situation, was a dream to sleep in. He finally could stretch out and sleep comfortably without having his legs or arms dangling over the sides, exposed to the night air. For the first time in a long while, he had woken up refreshed. And it was all because Cas said yes to the bed.

Groaning, Dean pushes off the bed and slides into his morning routine, gathering his belongings and checking out all the while trying to figure out how to apologize. It isn't till he's falls into the driver's seat, too lost in his thoughts, that Dean notices the Impala is clean. The mud is gone, leaving behind a glistening black metallic body. Inside, the leather is spotless and the smell of manure is gone replaced by the smell of pine.

Smiling gently, Dean reaches out and plucks the tiny green air-freshener tree from his rear view mirror. "At least you clean up after yourself."

As if hearing his name, Dean's phone rings. With a quick glance, he flips open the phone, hanging the tree back in its' place.

"Dean." Cas's gruff voice is void over the line, but somehow Dean can feel the hidden sorry behind his name.

"Hey, I forgot to loan you that book last night. How about you join me for breakfast and I'll give it to you then." Dean's own quiet aplogy laces in the chipper mood. "No, not this instant. Because I'm starving, that's why." Turning on his car, he peels out of the parking lot, rolling his eyes once while chatting away with a smirk on his face. "There's that diner a few miles down and I thought maybe, I know you don't eat. Who cares, look man, you ate that one time. Yeah well, I know I said the whole last night on earth routine, but dude it's freaking breakfast! And I hear they make the best bear claws ever. No not real bear claws, that's disgusting. Ok, I did not need to know that Cas."

* * *

_It's second nature to Dean, motions he conducts without even thinking. Finished sorting out his things, he grabs the books with one hand as the other tilts the chair against the window. Just in case Cas appears here instead of at the laundry room, the angel knows that he is welcome to rest his weary feet and wings here. _

_Next, he grabs the detergent. He knows Cas won't change his clothes, but the angel had confessed that he felt a bit more rejuvenated after the shower incident. So somehow, Dean manages to convince the guy to give him the coat and suit jacket and tosses it in with the rest of the laundry. It was a baby step, but a step nonetheless towards the guy actually taking a shower. _

_Who knew the angel had the Winchester patented stubbornness streak? _

_"Having a little book club meeting?" Sam's voice pulls Dean's head upwards to take the sprawled form of his younger brother trying to fit comfortably on the all too small queen bed. For a split second, he wants to rub it in that he got to sleep in a king size bed but bites his tongue. __"No, just getting ready to do laundry." _

_Sam's eyes widen, "Laundry, are you serious? It's like two in the morning." _

_Dean shrugs, grabbing his laundry bag. He wasn't planning on it, but then Cas called about needing to research something and well, there ya go. "Yeah, you got any?" _

_"Left side of my bag," watching Dean scurry over to grab his dirty clothes, Sam blinks in total confusion. All he wanted to do was sleep, but it seems Dean's a bit wired. "Dean, it's fine if Cas hangs out here, just be quiet you two." _

_Dean shoots straight up, ears turning red. Chest huffed out; Dean smacks the bag of heavy load of laundry and books at Sam's feet. "Dude, that is so wrong!" __Sam barks back a laugh as he watches Dean fluster about, grabbing the keys last before trampling out of the room. _

_Grinning widely, he reaches out to turn off the light. As the darkness envelopes the room, curled on his side, Sam can't seem find the elusive sleep. Next to him, the empty bed screams of lost dreams and broken relationships. __Shaking his head, Sam flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling all alone in a room. Meanwhile his brother is hanging out in the laundry room with an angel, washing clothes and doing research. It's something Jess and he did all the time back in the dorms. It was their little thing. And it's something he realizes, he wants to be a part of again. It's something..._

**A/N**: Weekend yay ;) Take care y'all.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: No ownership what so ever, nadda, zip, nothin, zlich...that should cover it.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, you guys :) They're like the icing on the cake after some heavy duty cramming with school.

**Chapter 9: The Spock to his Kirk **

_Drying his wet hair in the bathroom, Sam frowns as he hears his brother chatting up a storm through the flimsy wall. He did bring this upon himself; Sam tells himself, said that it's ok for Dean not to hide his friendship with the angel. But this is a bit too much. Sure, his brother can be a jerk at times, but this really? _

_Dean's voice is light and carefree. "Ha, yeah, he has no common sense whatsoever." _

_"What can I say, she's a manipulative SOB. Hey I didn't curse this time, so don't give me any crap. What you mean, you always give me shit like that? Dude, what the hell did you just call me? I ain't learning Enochian, Cas!" There's a brief pause in which Sam can only imagine Dean taking a long swig of beer, as he huffs quietly to regain in his anger. _

_"Got that right," Dean mumbles, "He was a big idiot. I mean really, it's his entire fault. If he hadn't slept with her then none of this would be happening." _

_Sam pushes the door open cutting the conversation short, as Dean's face flushes red. His brother quickly presses a button on the remote changing the channel. He quickly rambles, "Talk to you later." Then in a flash he snaps the phone shut and smiles innocently up at Sam. "Had a refreshing shower there, Sam?" _

_Sam nods coldly, "Yeah but really was that entire conversation necessary?" _

_Dean stares up at him incredulously, "Huh?" His mind tries to connect the dots to the show Dr. Sexy MD and what Sam might be alluding at. But he came up with nothing, just a blank canvas. _

_"You know, never mind," huffs Sam, not really feeling the energy to get into another wacked out argument. He learnt his lesson last year that they operated on different levels now...but still, it irks him and it must be broadcasting off his face in HD. _

_Dean's face hardens, not at all the reaction Sam's expecting. There's a dark storm brewing in those green eyes and Sam finds himself slightly scared. "Spill." The single word cancels out the soft ramblings on the screen behind him. _

_"It's just...I know what I did with Ruby, that I should have listened to you. And I'm sorry, but enough is enough." _

_"Oh." _

_"I mean, I know drinking demon blood is wrong and everything, but you got to understand that I did it for you." _

_"For me," Dean's head tilts, eyes narrowing and Sam feels a calmness creeping throughout the room. "For me?" he stresses. _

_Sam shallows, shoulders squaring off. He might as well go all the way with this. "Yeah, for you. I had to protect you somehow either from Lilith, who probably wanted your head again, the angel's end game and let's not forget Alistair." _

_Dean's hand curls into the thin comforter, fear mixed with hatred flashing at the mention of the demon's name. "I didn't ask for you help with Alistair, I had it." _

_"Didn't look like it to me," snaps Sam back. _

_Dean dodges, just like he does with anything concerning that demon and anything Hell related. "Well, if it was all for me then why did you-" He shallows, shoulders rolling in discomfort, "What was that whole bit back at the motel room?" _

_Sam knows which motel room his brother is referencing to. Jerking his head back, images of a ruthless fight fast-forwards before him. Glancing down at his hands, all Sam can see is Dean's defeated eyes rolling up in his head as those same fingers wrapped and squeezed the life out of him. _

_Whispered words fall out dripping with guilty, "Dean...I..." _

_Dean waves his hand, turning up the volume on the TV louder as he begins to flip channels. "Whatever." _

_Ten channels later, Sam stares numbly at the flashing pictures stinging on the edge of his bed, not knowing what to say. A black remote lands in his lap jostling out of his thoughts. Flicking his gaze upwards, he watches Dean grab his jacket. _

_"Gonna take a walk, don't wait up." His words brisk, Dean leaves once more the sting of betrayal hurting worse than any blade or bullet._

* * *

Lights flash and crackle highlighting the blue uniform against the white background of the bridge. Spock cocks his head slightly to the side, his large brown eyes widening with infallible logic. "If I had quoted Starfleet regulations to you, you would have merely ignored them."

Before him, Kirk's lips twitch with a barely suppressed grin. But the look on his face screams '_You got me'_. Marching by, he pats his new partner on the shoulder, glad to see that logical, no emotion mask back. Kirk's mouth begins issuing orders but blackness fills the area before a bearded man, wearing barely anything on, yells at some other man in beach shorts about how he was going to vote him off the island.

Dean turns his head, not in the least surprised to see Cas doing the same. The two are sitting comfortably on the edges of their beds, enjoying a quiet night in. Dean had been eager to watch the new Star Trek movie and Cas seemed inclined to see why Dean kept wanting him to wear pointed ears next Halloween. The movie was going fine but Dean just couldn't hold back a squirm, as Spock and Kirk interacted more and more.

He remembers how he told Bobby that angels are shady politicians from the planet Vulcan. All except one, who dared to go and mix in with the humans. And try as he might, Dean can't help but keep thinking about Cas. And when Spock uttered those words, it slams the point home.

Cas has the same reaction, sorrow and apologies flooding those piercing eyes. They remember standing in a dark ally, where an angel told a hunter how he tricked him because he never did what he was told.

Dean sends a shaky smile to his friend. If Spock could become the badass, Vulcan death grip hero, then there is hope for Cas. His friend's eyes seem to soften, gratefulness shimmer in them before turning to gaze back at the TV.

Sick of the lame reality show, Dean starts channeling surfing when Cas's voice halts him full of curiosity. "What's that?"

Dean shrugs as the events play out before him. "Looks to me like some corny doctor show."

"Why does he keep staring at that woman? Shouldn't he be more concerned about the surgery?"

"Got me, these types of shows are stupid to begin with. All chick-flick drama and music..." At that moment, a dark-haired nurse walks up to the main doctor slapping him hard. Dean quirks his eyebrow, interest slightly piqued. The nurse is kinda hot.

"Why is he called Doctor Sexy?" Cas's brow furrows as he takes a sip from his beer, not feeling like drinking a soda tonight. It's been rough week for them both.

"Probably because of his stupidly long hair," comments Dean.

Cas shakes his head, "No, that's not it."

Dean scowls, glaring at the angel. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm not a girl, Cas."

A tiny quirk of Cas's eyebrow is thrown his way before fixing back on the TV. Dean feels his mouth go dry. That sneaky bastard. Snarling he flips the channel to some sexed up commercial about a watch. Take that. Two can play at this game. And Dean is the master and rightfully so because of one pain in the ass little brother. Longing swells in Dean as he recollects countless teasing and prank wars. Not wanting to deal with the emotional turmoil, he pushes the heartache away forcing his mind to focus on the mind numbing TV.

If it was possible, Cas almost whines, his voice not rising but going even deeper. "I want to watch the show."

Waving the remote, Dean grins smugly as Cas turns to stare at him, his mouth opening slightly. "Well I got the remote, buddy. Besides who paid for the room?"

"Doctor Sexy was about to do an operation on a woman, something about a face transplant." The seriousness in Cas's tone makes Dean want to laugh. He couldn't fight back the urge to see how far he could push the angel. It was almost like having Sam back.

"No, I'm not-"

Blue sky eyes become sapphire daggers as the '_don't make me smite you_' glare lays waste any future responses. Chipper mood dashed, Dean mutters a string of incomprehensible curses as he presses the back button, depressing music filling the air. At least Sam played for awhile. He shakily returns to watching the stupid drama, telling himself that he'll bare it for one day because Cas never asked for anything. But this was going on his bill alongside the beer, pie and cell-phone.

An hour later, both stare wide-eyed as the finishing credits flash quickly on the screen. Cas shakes his head, "I will never understand humans. But I still want know why Doctor Sexy is sexy."

Dean rolls his eyes, "It's the cowboy boots, you idiot."

"No," Cas purses his lips, meeting Dean's statement with his own. "Maybe it's because he's saves lives."

"That's his job man. No I'm telling ya, chicks dig the cowboy boots." Dean counters back, meeting Cas's gaze with his own. It's a clash of stubborn wills, except instead of seeing who would be submissive, it is merely for friendly teasing.

"Dean," Cas points at the TV, never once breaking contact, "Another one is on." And like that Cas wins, the silent score keeper in Dean chalking another line other at the angel's side. They were tied for a couple days there, but now the angel has once again gained some footing.

"Stupid blue-eyed, puppy dog face," snarls Dean missing the dash of a grin on Cas's face, as whiny music assaults his ears. He immediately ends the impromptu staring contest, eager to know how that one hot nurse was going to avoid the other intern nurse. Really, nurses galore, oh yeah this show rocks. And maybe he could pick up a few tricks from Doctor Sexy. Oh score, not even five minutes in and the man nabbed another intern! This guy is his hero.

Cas watches the burdens on Dean's shoulders wash away under the onslaught of a mindless show, that's too absurd to be reality. Glad to see his friend truly relax, Cas gives himself a mental pat on the back for picking the show. As Dean would say, he was good...no awesome.

* * *

_These changes might disturb Sam, but Dean doesn't know when or why he keeps doing them. Like how he laid out on the bed, phone to ear, watching Dr. Sexy MD. He tells himself that he's only watching this damn show to tell Cas everything he's missing. That it hadn't become an almost routine thing. Cas would toss his coat on the chair and perch on the opposite bed, washing away Dean's stress for the day. How while drinking their respective beer and soda, Cas eats his saved slice of pie, while Dean tries to steal a piece. _

_Lowering the tinted glass onto the polished worn wood, Dean finds himself lost in its amber sea. A part of him wants to scream and hack away at this friendship he's growing with Cas. Because no matter what happens and who they are, those closest to him always leave him or die. And Cas already died, so it's only of time before he leaves him. Except he keeps coming back whenever Dean thinks it's the last time, never saying goodbye just vanishing. _

_Then there's Sam. _Sam_. _

_Shoulders sagging, Dean flags the bartender. "Another shot," clearing his throat, he adds. "Leave the bottle." _

**A.N:** Alright, guys one more chapter. But man with all this feedback, I'm starting to get second doubts...who knows. Well, everyone have an awesome weekend and Forth of July. Safe travels and take care :)


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thanks for stinking through these. I hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July and that it wasn't too hot and that the fireworks were awesome. For this one, I fast forwarded it a bit to take place after "Children are our future" episode. And also, this is where things merge together.

I've been doing some thinking and with all this feedback, and if you want, I've decided to go on. I can easily continue onwards and I've got a rough sketch in my head already. Thing is, I won't be updating like every day. So enjoy this chapter and a little break...think it as an intermission of sorts :)

**Chapter 10: Sam and Dean come as a package, that's just a fact of life.**

It's a week after the incident with Jesse and despite the tension with Castiel or Dean's downtrodden spirit, Sam feels a bit reassured. To know that some other person, a kid, made the right decision even with destiny saying he was evil, Sam feels a flicker of hope. It's warm feeling he doesn't want to loose.

The tiny click of numbers singles an hour past midnight. On cue, the door cracks open snapping Sam's eyes wide open. He hasn't been able to get a wink of sleep, lying on his bed trying to figure out this mess called the Apocalypse. It doesn't help also that outside a dog's been barking for the past thirty minutes. Curling deep underneath the blanket, he peeks out into the dark and watches quietly as two figures stumble into the room, the door magically closing itself.

"Use the Force, young Skywalker." Dean's voice is slurred, the stench of alcohol slowly diffusing into the air.

"You're drunk, Dean. I believe it's time for you to get the sleep you love to point out about." Castiel's voice is the same as always, but there's an undertone of concern and a dry wit he's never noticed before. Sam watches as Cas readjusts his grip on Dean, arms slung around the upper body gently leading him towards the empty bed with Dean's one arm draped over his shoulder.

Smiling lazy, Dean leans back, halting the pair as eyes roll to the side to send a heated sober glare at the window. The dog snarls are loud, lashing at the windows before subsiding into barking. Dean flinches, shoulders tightening. Sam doesn't miss the way Castiels' own grip tightens on his brother. He can only imagine what it must have been like to see how Cas pulled Dean out the Pit. It's a mystery that only those two know but rarely speak about.

"Stupid hound," Dean's voice is quiet. "Always howling at the chains, never happy even when they get to play with you...licking their lips for a taste of your guts..."

Bile rises in Sam's throat but he pushes it down, face tightening in the discomfort. Castiel sees the unspoken terror of the Hellhound twitching on Dean's face. The angel turns his head, eyes growing distant as he searches for the animal and the reason for the barking.

"It is merely a cat, Dean, nothing to worry about." He answers in the calm, unaffected tone.

Dean tilts his head up, staring deeply into the angel's face. "They ever go after you?" There's a hesitancy in Dean's voice that's new for Sam.

"Yes. It was a sport for the demons when they got wind of our location." There's a tight pain in the angel's voice. He doesn't want to talk about it, a quiet warning to Dean to drop the subject. Cas resumes their journey across the room, the weight of their experiences dragging their feet across the carpet.

"Fox and the hound," mumbles Dean, as Cas drops him on the bed. He bounces twice before collapsing onto the bed, feet dangling over the edge arms spread wide. Castiel looks down at him, head tilting to the side as if trying to determine what to do next. Dean takes care of the problem by knocking his knee against the dress pant leg. "Extra beer and a soda are in the fridge if you want it. Pie sucked today."

Castiel nods his thanks, walking towards the open chair tugging off his mud-caked coat. He gently picks up the shirt, running a hand down it before setting it on the table. Easing slowly into the chair, his shoulders slump as he gingerly slips off the blue jack and tie before unbuttoning the white shirt.

Dean shuffles to the edge of the bed, peering at Cas while trying to remain comfortable while lying down. "You ok?" Taking in every plane of flesh, the older Winchester notices the shirt is bloody and muddy, yet somehow the angel remains clean underneath.

"I am fine," whispers Castiel as he tries to hide the grimace but Dean pounces.

"No, you're not." The words are sharp halting Cas's frame. Rolling off the bed, Dean stumbles slightly over to the table knocking away Cas's hands to open the shirt. In the dim light coming from the parking lot, a dark angry burn stretches ugly across his side. "What the hell, Cas? Did you get electrocuted or something?"

"Zacheriah." It's as close as the angel will give to a full account of his encounter. Castiel bits back a hiss as Dean prods the angry flesh around the wound that is the size of his palm. Shaking his head, the welcoming haze of beer and whisky fading away; Dean turns to rummage through the med-kit.

"That son of a bitch, the next time I-" Anger burns Dean's face as he grabs the Neosporin.

"Dean." Castiel is annoyed at Dean's response, like he doesn't want to be protected or coddled. Sam knows how pointless it is, yet can't help but find this whole situation amusing.

"It'll help with protecting the burn," states Dean in a proud announcer like tone.

"Neosporin: approved for children and angels everywhere," whispers back Cas, his rare humor leaking out reveals how tired he is. He breaks into a huff of laugh, while Dean chuckles quietly.

"You've been hanging around me too much."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Maybe."

Castiel takes the bottle, pops it open, squeezes a bit out and begins to rub the white gel onto the wound. Watching quietly, Dean fights to remember that Cas is an angel, that underneath soulful eyes and spiky black hair is a creature of awesome power. That this flesh and bone he is touching, is merely a vessel. Sorrow tugs at his heart, for a thought crosses his mind that this right here will not last forever. And it's his entire fault.

Dean steps back pushing away the ill thoughts, as those long fingers tighten the cap back on and gently place the bottle back in the kit. "We'll have to let that dry."

Flopping back onto the bed, he watches with blurry eyes as Cas shakes off his shirt letting the pale parking light outline his smooth, lean figure. Jimmy wasn't much of an athlete, but with Cas now at the helm, the body hints of refined muscles and a fit chest that flexes with a hidden strength.

Reaching out, Cas shakes Dean's pale blue shirt open. "I do not need...mothering Dean, I am not a chicken and neither are you."

Dean's about to smart back, when he catches the faint hint of a smirk, blue eyes mocking at him over the collar of his shirt. "Dude, you must be in a really good mood, two jokes in a row. It must truly be the end of the world."

"Considering I slipped out of my ex superior's sight once again is enough." Cas's voice rumbles like distant thunder in the room, silencing the dog for a brief moment.

Arms raised, head peeking out over the collar, black hair sticking out more ruffled than before, Dean can't help but shake his head as he scoots back towards the headboard, each movement becoming slower as his eyes drift closed. "Very funny, Cas," mutters the older Winchester as exhaustion finally claims him. Head hitting the pillow, Dean's chest begins to rise up and down quietly.

Tugging the shirt down, Castiel makes his quietly over to the fridge. Sam narrows his eyes into slits open enough to peek through, but look like he's fast asleep. Crouching down by the fridge, blue eyes snap up locking themselves on him.

Swallowing back his shock, Sam widens his eyes to relish the fact he is caught. Cas's face seems to soften, the tiny lines around his eyes smoothing out. "We need to talk." The angel's voice is a soft whisper instead of the typical growl. In the background, the dog resumes his barking.

"How about no," whispers back Sam, his voice stinging with venom. He still can feel those eyes judging up at him about how he failed.

Castiel doesn't listen and it makes Sam wonder how the hell Dean can handle this man. "It's about Dean."

Of course it would be. It's always about Dean. He's out of the loop like always and he's fine with it. But there's no-

"He needs you."

That's something Sam never expects to hear coming from Castiel's mouth. He knows the two are close. Dean tends to confide and be brutally honest with the angel than he ever was with Sam unless forced too or finally broke. Shame swells in him as he recalls all the times he's pushed and prodded till Dean told him what was on his mind. And the one time he didn't do it so much, neglected the role of nagging, concerned little brother; Dean sought comfort night after night at the end of a bottle while Hell infected every aspect of who he was.

"Define need." The soft mutter wisps past his lips unintentionally. Castiel surprises him by huffing back, an annoyed glimmer passing over his face. He could almost picture the angel thinking about the stupidity of humans.

"Your brother never stopped thinking about you."

Sam lets a dead grin creep onto his face, but it pauses as Castiel leans further into his space, locking a non-joking stare right into him. A voice full with holy righteousness blazes forth firm quiet words.

"Even apart, everything reminded him of you. Of what you mean to him, of how he failed you. The love is still there, more intensely than before. He's always stood up for you, even while you were drinking blood or about to break the last seal. He chose you over Paradise, Sam Winchester. And even now, he fights not only protect humanity but to prevent you from becoming Lucifer's vessel."

Sam's throat dries, not able to fight the words as the unshaken truth sears into his mind and soul. He knows Castiel is telling the truth, knows from Dean the angel can't lie worth a penny. "Then..."

Castiel licks his chapped lips, shoulder slumping in a shirt that's too massive for him, hinting at the shoulder blades underneath. He tilts his head down, a hooded look falling over his eyes. "I..." a swallow, eyes pinching as the shoulders square off, "need your help."

Sam can't keep the curiosity creeping into his worry. Whatever got the angel to ask for aid must not be good.

Blue flickers up with a dark determined look as if Castiel is crossing a rotting bridge. "Dean."

A frown line darkens Sam's forehead. The angel sure does like his brother's name. "Deah, I get that, what are you-"

The dog's barking grows louder and closer. He must have gotten loose and is now running around in the parking lot. Dean groans across the room, shuffling of sheets hinting at the nightmares plaguing him. The barking stops soundly and the silence following is filled with the chirping of crickets. A tingling feeling washes over Sam and he has a feeling Cas had something to do with the welcomed silence.

Castiel merely tilts his head slightly, straining it to peer over Sam as if making sure Dean is still asleep. And that's when it clicks for Sam. How despite the distance and drive to stop the devil and protect Sam, Dean's driving himself once again into an early grave. It's similar to how Dean was after Dad died and look at how that ended up.

Dean's always had a bit of suicidal streak in him and after everything that happened in the Pit and now with the Apocalypse, Sam's gut twists that Dean might not survive this time. And he needs his brother, needs to fix this rift. Because if he can't fight for this and win, then why bother saying No to Lucifer.

Satisfaction seems to dissipate the high alertness surrounding the angel. Blue eyes gaze back at him and Sam nods in agreement. They can't look after Dean separately; they need to do it together. There needs to a unified front for the eldest brother to fall on before he does anything stupid.

Castiel nods, relief tinging the edges of his eyes, "...thank you...Sam." The words are a ghost as the angel moves from his position, walking slowly back over to Dean's side.

Sam can't fight back the relieved smile himself. He doesn't know why but his heart feels a little lighter, as if in those three words the angel just forgave him. All that hostility of before gone, wiped away with a clean slate. Also, he finds himself glad to know that there is someone else in this world beyond him and Bobby to watch over Dean. The cracking of a chair signals Cas taking his post next to the window. Sam can't do it alone, he knows that now. If anything from the past year taught him, it's to accept genuine help and push beyond the arrogance.

"Cas." Dean's groggy voice rumbles into the air. "Dude."

"You should be quiet Dean, Sam's resting."

"That kid can sleep through a hurricane, look if you're gonna sit there..."

Sam senses an unspoken request and he knows Cas understands. The chair groans as a quiet slip signals the angel kicking off his shoes. Twisting slightly, Sam glances over his shoulder, watching as Castiel settles on the bed next to Dean, who has his back turned to him. The angel tucks the pillow underneath his chin as he stretches out. Sam can't help but think how Cas looks like a big cat instead of some giant bird hybrid.

Dean tries to fight back a yawn. "So...never asked, how are you?"

This time, Sam listens without any reservations.

"Tired." Sam fights back a snort. The angel still hadn't mastered elaborating on things.

Dean presses on, "Where'd you go this time?"

"Venice."

"And...how...was...it..."

"Damp...smelly."

Lying on the bed, eyes drifting back shut, Dean realizes he can't break with this one little thing because he's grown accustomed to feeling Cas's warm presence next to him. How that deep voice wraps around him like a warm blanket. How Cas seems to sing as he paints a story with short words and emotions he can't figure out, yet evokes within Dean with perfection. Eyes closing, the eldest Winchester loses himself to Cas and the beauties of the world, forgetting about the dog or the hellhounds or the rocky relationship he has with Sam.

Rolling slightly closer to Cas, Dean mumbles one last time in agreement, before sleep and exhaustion finally wash over him. Castiel continues to whisper tales as he peers over to see Sam watching them with warm, thankful brown eyes. Gratefulness shines in both their eyes, as a tiny bond of friendship sparks to life.

It might not be as intense and unique, as the one Cas has with Dean, or the respectful and confiding relation Sam has with Bobby. But it's something Sam remembers back in college and any chance he sought for a normal life. The simply form of an acquaintance becoming an ally, but further down the line might evolve into a friend. A true friend, with no hidden agendas, speaks the truth and still has your back.

Because finally, Sam is now part of this strange group he dares to find himself calling family. He and Cas have a little thing that is only between them and it feels right. It's a little thing that might just be one thing out of the many that his brother has with the angel, but it's more precious. It's a little thing that needs to be treasured at all costs.

And this little thing between Sam and Cas is simple.

It's Dean.

**A/N:** There ya go. Keep an eye out, for the next part and take care :)


	11. Chapter 11

A.N: Hi everyone! Well I'm back and writing up a new batch of this little one-shorts. Sorry for the long wait, had a nice mini-vacation and suddenly the writing muse decided to have one too.

**Chapter 11**: **It doesn't matter what species you are, brothers are a pain in the ass.**

_"Bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him, or we'll dunk you in holy oil and deep fry ourselves an archangel."_

_Dean's a suicidal idiot and ticking off an archangel shouldn't have surprised him as it did. Thankfully, Sam knew how to keep his fear from spilling over. He would have helped his brother in taking out Trickster turned Gabriel, if worse came to worse. But things cooled down and Sam finds himself pausing in the doorway of the Impala. He realizes why that statement just won't leave his mind, besides the whole 'it's your fate to fight your brother' speech. Dean only goes that far with ones he deems family, which is strange in a mind numbing shock sort of thing, to think of the angel as part of their group._

_He's still getting used to think of the smaller man or creature as a friend that can be trusted._

_Still it's nice to know their small family is growing. Bobby is the much needed father figure that both can't think what it would be like without him. Then there was Ellen and Jo. Jo growing up into a beautiful woman and Ellen's motherly instincts knocking much needed sense into them. And now there's Cas, the awkward yet lovable foreign cousin._

_A flash of tan off to the side, movement reflecting off of the hood pulls Sam away from his thoughts. The newest member to their little world is quietly standing off to the side, glancing everywhere but the warehouse and them._

_"Hey princesses." Dean watches as two pairs of soulful eyes zero in on him. He's surrounded by two puppy-dog expressions. Great way to finish off this bizarre day, "Get in the car and let's dump this joint before Gabriel gets anymore bright ideas."_

_Castiel's voice trickles into the air, "I should-"_

_Yet, Dean's freaky angel sixth sense kicks as he points a finger at the smaller man, "Get in the car, Colombo." There's no room for argument and they know if Cas flies off, Dean will hound him till he gives in. As they slide into the Impala, Dean barks over the roar of the engine. "Besides, we need another jug of oil."_

_Castiel sighs, "You should learn to use it more wisely Dean. It is not abundant like salt."_

_"Yeah well, it's not like I plan these tea times with archangels."_

_And as they drive out back onto the main road, zooming like there's no tomorrow, Castiel asks in a dead panned voice, "Did the maid work?"_

_Dean rolls his eyes as Sam shoots him a bizarre look, "Yeah, the tuberware worked Cas." There's exhaustion on the edge of Dean's voice, but also there's a hint a growing amusement, "Poor Sam though had it up his ass." There's a wicked glint to Dean's eye as an evil smirk tugs at his lip._

_Sam scowls back, "I hate you."_

_Dean merely barks out a laugh as a confused Cas scrunches up his bloody noise in the rear view mirror._

* * *

Castiel lands quietly behind the corner of the massive store. It's been about an hour since Dean's call. He had not bothered with a hello, just a quick, very loud and colorful retort to get here. And Castiel would have, except that he had a choice to make: deal with Dean or talk to a creature not seen for hundreds of years that would only make itself known for a short time.

He chose the latter.

And the dragon with her golden eyes and rumbling laugh, while coughing up liquid blood told the angel countless stories. Stories of how despite their technologies, these humans are nothing but confused ants scurrying to find a way to overcome the ash cloud she bellows up. Shifting her glacier wings, sending boulders and ice chunks crashing into the arctic waters, the dragon tells Castiel about her brothers and sisters, of the newborns bubbling deep under water, creating their scalding hide as they grow slowly. She tells the angel of one of their elders sleeping deeply, his snores bubbling the fissures and pools of Yellowstone.

In the end, the dragon hisses with steam that maybe this elder will know of where to find his Father. Fidgeting his own wings, moving the steam to cover him from the prying eyes of cameras, Castiel finds himself hissing back that it is impossible to awaken a dragon before its time. And if so, he won't risk the angry wrath that could destroy an entire continent. Not to mention Dean, Sam or Bobby, his heart quietly adds.

The dragon snaps her jaw, a drool of lava flying off to the side while a fiery tongue cracks at the night sky. _Leave, before I eat you for dinner_ she spews into the air, tingeing it red and orange. The angel bows his head and walks backwards, hands faced upwards. Once he's free of the ash cloud, Castiel sighs, shaking away the gray and white covering his body. Guess he must go meet Dean and bear his wrath now.

As a car zooms by making him cough up the exhaust fumes and dirt, Castiel rounds the corner. Dodging mothers with their hyper active children and trash cans, he makes his way slowly to the spot beneath the large sign that says Wal-Mart. Pacing back and forth, Dean's fuming form halts and sharp green eyes snap up at him. It is hard not to pick out the tan coat and for the first time, he wonders if he should dress in a more inconspicuous garb. That and he can't help but run a hand through his hair, gazing down to find thankfully its clean.

"Well you took your damn sweet time," Dean's greeting is anything but chipper, but Cas is used to it by now, letting it fly over his head.

"I was busy."

"With what?"

Cas bites his tongue. "I had a meeting with someone that might have had information regarding God."

"And?" Dean places his hands on his hips, the irritation causing him to almost shake up and down.

"She referred me," some teenagers bump hard into Cas sending him to stumble slightly forward. He sends a quick glare over his shoulder, not realizing how human the move is or Dean's brief warm smile. "to someone else. And no," Castiel tightens his lips, fixing his deep stare back at Dean, "I did not go see this creature yet. I figured I'd come and see what the problem was."

"Well glad to know that I'm so high on your list. What if I was in trouble or something? I could have been dead!"

"When you told me your location, I scouted a little to make sure you were not." Cas tilts his head, as if Dean should know this information already. "If you were truly in danger, I would not leave you Dean. I…got your back."

Shaking his own, Dean scoffs. Cas frowns as Dean walks up to him, gently laying a hand on his back to steer him towards the moving doors. "Did I say it wrong?"

"Nah, just your tone. But you're getting there…like at a snail's pace, but still." Dean drops his hand as they near the entrance, watching the angel's first dealing with the megastore.

Cas's brow furrows, "This is a trick, yes?"

"Why would taking you to Wal-Mart be a trick?" Sometimes Dean wonders how the angel's mind works.

"It looks like the work of Eris in there," Cas says quietly as he sidesteps a fast walker with her cart.

Grabbing a hold of Cas's wrist, Dean begins to pull Cas into the store. The angel falls quickly into step, wide blue eyes soaking up the loud and chaotic atmosphere. "Eris?"

"Greek Goddess of Discord."

Dean snags a blue basket, "Trust me, dude. It ain't that bad."

The disbelief in Cas is classic. "It gets worse in here?"

Dean dodges into the clothing rack to avoid a loading cart, contemplates for a split second then nods. "Yep, any days around holidays, it gets vicious in here."

The two hug the wall of teenage girl tee-shirts as an elderly woman slowly wobbles by, pushing the rickety cart in front of her. Cas scans the aisle, taking in all the colors of the clothing. "This isn't right…this truly is a trick."

Dean is watching the old woman and just as she passes him, he lets out a sigh of relief. Yet before he can move, she angles her cart fifteen degrees, cutting him off from leaving. Biting back a groan, he lets go of Castiel's arm, spins around and marches down the aisle.

He knows the smaller man is right behind him cause he can swear he feels the brush of that damn coat against his legs. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because if this isn't Eris, than this type of chaos reminds me of Gabriel," there's a tightness to Cas's voice that piques Dean's interest.

Glad to see that the tiny walkway is clear of kids, carts and people for a split second, Dean glances at the angel. "Gabriel?"

"Yes, he was much like you."

"Really?" Dean doesn't know whether to be offended or pleased to be compared to another angel.

"He liked to drag us grunts to very uncomfortable places…always laughing till one of the other archangels came by and told him to stop."

For some odd reason, Dean remembers the countless times he was scolded by his father when he pulled a nasty prank on Sam. One in particular stands out involving Nair and shampoo. "What'd he do?"

If it's the discomfort or embarrassment, Dean swears he sees Castiel's cheeks blush. "Nothing," snaps Cas as he fidgets at Dean's side, one hand rubbing at his neck while the other tugs at his sleeve. "What are we doing here anyway?"

Coughing back a grin, Dean motions to the kitchen area, "Need to pick up some cleaning supplies and a plastic jug. Your stupid clay one broke and spilled oil all over my baby." Skidding to a halt, he turns and jabs a finger hard into Cas's chest, locking a steel gaze onto curious blue ones. "You are so helping me clean the mess."

Castiel only needs to nod once and Dean can't help but smirk at knowing that he taught an angel about the rules involving the Impala. Turning, Dean spots a gray smudge and gazes down at this finger. Rubbing his thumb over it, he sniffs slightly. "Ash? Where the hell were you?"

"Eyjafjallajoekull, Iceland."

Dean's eyes are saucer wide, "Say again."

"Eyjafjall-"

"Never mind, who were you talking too?"

"Her name cannot be said in your language, dragon tongue is hard to translate." The calm statement makes the entire conversation vault into surreal. Suddenly all the background hustle and bustle seems to freeze.

Dean can only blink, the blue basket falling forgotten the linoleum floor. "You were talking. To a dragon?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Castiel gives a curt nod, "Yes."

Childlike wonder explodes on the hunter's face. Reaching out, Dean grabs Cas's shoulders and yanks him close till the angel can feel his breath on his face and the freckles dotting his nose. "They re-really e-exist?"

Dean's stuttering excitement makes Castiel wonder if he is once again missing something. "Yes. They all merely went into hibernation, seeking solace under the Earth while you humans populated the land."

Licking his lips, a wicked glint enters Dean's eyes. "If they exist…then what about unicorns?"

Castiel's shoulders sag as he remembers the cleaning detail. "Yes. Gabriel thought it would be hilarious to create the one-horned creatures." Tired blue eyes fix onto the shocked face.

Dean's bubbling glee makes the green eyes impossible bright, "You telling me unicorns existed? This ain't one big trick or something right?"

"Yes, they existed…not anymore thankfully. They were troublesome creatures."

Nodding in eager agreement, Dean takes in a deep breath, leans left and right to make sure no one is watching or in close proximity to hear his next question. Clearing his throat, Dean shifts to the side and hugs Cas close to his side. "Answer me this."

Confusion racking his mind, Castiel's brow furrows, and his voice rises ever so slightly. "What?"

"Do they shoot rainbows out of their ass?"

Silence envelopes the two. Then to Dean's utter surprise, in the middle of Wal-Mart, in the aisle for Rubbermaid and Tupperware, Castiel breaks into soft peals of chuckles then into full blown laughter.

Dean steps back, bewilderment all over him. "What?" echoes softly yet Castiel leans against the cement pillar, clutching his sides as his body shakes. Frowning, Dean throws his arms open and snaps, "What?"

* * *

_Dean slams down his glass, the round table wobbling precariously, "Wait…please tell me there's another Gabriel?"_

_Sam feels as if he's listening to the middle of a conversation. Then again, Dean's slowly getting wasted and it's never fun trying to decipher what he was saying. Castiel, though, seems to know as those sad eyes seem to perk up slightly with a ghost of a smile peeking out, "No."_

_"Damn you," Dean snarls, throwing his napkin right into Cas's chest. "I'm nothing like him!"_

_Castiel merely cocks an eye as he picks the greased napkin out of his lap, tossing it into the empty onion ring basket. Sam snorts, "Uh, yeah you are. You both have the humor of five year olds."_

_Heated green eyes fix on him, "I do not!"_

_Sam can't fight back the goofy smile, "Yeah you do. I mean come on; you started the whole prank wars."_

_The gruff voice picks up where he left off. "Gabriel did a prank once. He thought it would be funny to make a vertical rock formation out in the middle of nowhere just to confuse the local tribes." There's a remeniscent tone hinting at the immense confusion, anger and joy Castiel must be feeling to know that one of his brothers is alive, yet hiding out amongst the natives._

_Dean shoots his gaze back at the angel, "You're pulling my leg."_

_Cas shakes his head, "No. I believe you call it Devil's Tower. And I am not...pulling your leg, Dean."_

_Sam snickers at Dean's flat expression. A few seconds later and the older Winchester is shaking his head. "I don't need this abuse," mumbles Dean. He finishes his last shot glass. "Double teaming me…so not cool..." With a push and a shove, enough to almost tip over the table if Cas hadn't reached out to balance it, Dean staggers over to the bar._

_Chuckling, Sam raises his own glass, motioning for Cas to follow him. "To our pain the ass older brothers."_

_Castiel eyes the drink, pauses till Sam can see the lightbulb go off and raises his own. "Yes."_

_"Yep, Cas" Sam clinks their glasses before automatically, patting him on the back. "Us little bros gotta stick together."_

_Castiel tilts his head towards where Sam's arm is, but doesn't make any move to shake it off. Instead, he nods and clinks their glasses together once more. "Indeed."_

_Draping his arm over the back of his chair, Sam drowns his beer as Castiel takes three long gulps. In the background, they hear Dean smart talking some other bar patrons to a game of pool. Sam shifts to keep an eye on his brother, just in case he needs to go in and save the day. He feels Castiel due to the same. His gaze travelling to the far corner, where the pool table is. Sam finds himself glad for the companionship because it seems the massive bikers might be a bit hard to handle._


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hope everyone is doing fine! I'm back with another chapter and might work on the next one. Anything to make me not do homework, lol. And yes the title is a reference to Toy Story.

**Chapter 12: It's called Falling with Style**

Sam finds himself leaning with meshed wiring tight over his head, the warm metal railing a welcome to the blast of cold wind ripping through his jacket. The suspension bridge barely sways, as the youngest Winchester peers over the edge into the vast canyon of the Royal Gorge. The dusty red and orange cliffs are jagged and ancient while the mighty Colorado River roars with the speed of a freight train. To his left, back on the solid edge of the canyon, Dean's talking to the sales clerk in the gift store about the jumper ghost. It's a strange case, rumors a man dressed in a red base jumper outfit leaping off the middle of the bridge only to disappear half way.

"Hello Sam."

He turns jolting hard against the railing, "Geez Cas, what are you doing here?"

"Dean called," Castiel peers over the edge, the foremost expression being of indifference. Sam can't help but think that Cas probably has seen this canyon when it was just a fresh young scar, not yet worn down by wind and rain into a crumbling, weathered landscape. Yet, as he stares a big longer, Sam notices a slight slouch in the shoulders and a pinch on the corner of the eyes. Longing makes itself known, such little things but one that Sam realizes he's beginning to notice more and more.

Clearing his throat, Sam looks back out, watching a tiny trolley box swing as it travels to the other side, only connected to a strong suspension wire. Inside, the brave tourists peer out and point at various things. "You helping with the case?"

Castiel closes his eyes against the strong wind, "No. Dean had wanted to…hook me up with the sale's woman's sister." He opens his eyes and gazes up solemnly at Sam, "He seems a bit more relaxed than usual."

Sam lets out a small smile, "Yeah." Another breeze and Cas leans further over the edge almost relishing it, his coat flapping like wings.

* * *

_Dean spots the angel before the featherbrain finds him, waving him down across the park. Instead of meeting at the usual bench, Dean feels like trying something new. Cas spots him and walks with that familiar brisk walk, the coat bellowing around his legs. He can't help but grin Cheshire-like as he takes in the serious yet puzzled expression._

_"Why are you sitting here?" Cas's childlike curiosity makes the hunter widen his grin, kicking with his bare feet at the warm sand, the evening sun casting long shadows at the abandoned old park._

_Dean reaches to his left and jiggles the wooden swing. "Kick off your shoes and sit down Cas."_

_Sitting down, Cas flays slightly before his long fingers wrap themselves around the metal chain. "This is interesting…"_

_"It's a swing."_

_"Oh." Eyes flickering back and forth from Dean's bare feet and his own shoes, he continues, "And why would I take off my shoes?"_

_"Cause the sand feels great." Both gaze down at the black shoes, staring at them for a few seconds as if by their will power alone the shoes will disappear. Dean's the first to break contact, shrugging his shoulders. Flicking up grains of sand, he begins to swing back and forth quietly humming a Metallica song._

_Cas watches him intently, trying to see where this is all going. But he can't because this makes no sense to him. Why would one want to rock back and forth on such a small piece of wood? Why take off your shoes? It makes little sense, but he keeps quiet watching and absorbing Dean's content. It seems like his friend is at peace and if such a redundant movement brings this result than he will not press the matter. "Is there-"_

_"I felt like swinging today, Cas. Haven't swung in years," Dean's grin shrinks and falters. A grim look befalls the hunter's face as he picks up the speed, soaring higher and higher. Then when he's finally above the bar, Dean flings himself off landing with a hard thump and jumping a few steps forward. Turning, cheeks flushed, a wide carefree smile paints utter glee onto the tanned face. There's a wild child-like excitement shining in his eyes._

_"Man, forgot how fun that is." Bolting back to his swing, Dean hops back and begins to push himself again. "Your turn Cas."_

_The angel wants to say that this is pointless, that there are more important things to do. That he knows what it feels like to fall… Then again, Cas has been around Dean long enough to know that whatever reason Dean has for seeking this simply amusement, something bad must have happened. Pursing his lips, knowing full well that Dean won't talk till he's ready, Cas tilts his head in surrender and begins to mimic Dean's movements._

_Dean catches him, green hooked onto the blue. Slowing down slightly, the older Winchester meets him swing for swing till they are equal. Huffing slightly from exertion, Dean yells slightly over the rushing of the wind. "Alright, when I say, we're both going to jump off."_

_Cas's hair is whipping slightly in the wind, "Is this some sort of game?"_

_"Yep, to see who can jump the furthest and whoever losses has to buy the beer!" Then that challenging glint appears in Dean's eyes, "Watch out Grasshopper, you're about to take on the world champion."_

_"Hm." Cas continues to stretch and tuck his legs, his legs beginning to burn as the metal digs into his palms. It isn't long till when on one pull upwards, Cas finds himself drifting his eyes shut, enjoying the rush of wind ruffling through his hair. The smell of the earth and wind are welcoming him home. Understanding slowly dawns on him why humans seem to love this. It's almost like flying, the rushing air flowing over him, blasting at his front only to cradle him as he swings downward._

_"Ok, here we go!" Dean's voice is light and distant. "One. Two. Three!"_

_Blue eyes snap open as Dean flies off before him, almost suspended in mid-air. His layered shirts fling out behind him, almost like wings, catching the wind as he lands with another hard thump, falling into a roll before jumping onto his feet, turning and bowing with his arms wide open. "Ta Da!"_

_Cas relishes once more the breeze and lets go, pushing himself off. The flight forward is different than flying in his true form. There's no flash or string of colors, but this physical and crumbling earth with its hues of green, brown, red and blue. There's whiff of pollen and dying leaves hinting at this old, tired landscape. It makes him feel more in tuned with this planet than any other time he has flown in his missions, not truly taking in the beauty laid out before him._

_Then he feels the lift disappear and the fall begins. His coat tails slap at his back as that brown earth flies up to meet his feet. But it's not the sand pit he sees, but a vast, long canyon in where Lucifer's wing rips through the crust as he fought Michael, water spilling in from the ocean above._

_A bolt of fear rips through Castiel, tearing out of the tiny revelation. This fall in this form scares him because for the first time he is Falling. Falling like no angel should and his borrowed heart hitches painfully in his chest. He doesn't want to Fall, not like this. He doesn't want to be human and locked forever in this fleshy cage. He's not ready to accept that this will be his destiny if he continues on this road with the Winchesters. He wants to forget for awhile, not to face the facts and fly into the vast blue and black sky with the wind whipping all around him._

_In a blink, instincts kick in snapping his wings open. The feathers ruffle as they catch a draft, easing his fall into a mere trip of steps on the sand. Folding his wings, Castiel swallows, trying to ease his heart. Keeping his face neutral, he stares at the tiny grains till he knows that those blue eyes won't reveal his trembling soul._

_Glancing up, he takes in Dean, a scowl marring his face. "Cheater."_

_Cas's shoulders sag, "Sorry."_

_"Don't you dare say you're sorry," grabbing the angel, Dean spins him around and hauls him back to the swings, "Rematch, but this time, no wings."_

_"Dean, this is childish." Castiel doesn't mind the swinging but he does not want to fall again. Doesn't want that harsh reminder slammed into his face._

_Dean pauses, his back tensing while his grip around the angel's wrist lessens slightly. "Sam…and I did this all the time as kids…" Dean's voice is thick with memory, head bowed heavy with nostalgia._

_"Guess what I heard today?" And there it is, this thing Cas has been waiting patiently to hear but would not force its reveal._

_Taking a step forward, Castiel bends slightly to try and take in the hooded face of the hunter. Normally a person would say something, but he doesn't see the need._

_"A rumor…hunter gossip circle," Dean's voice is low but there's a twisted amusement ringing ever so slightly. "They say Sam Winchester drinks demon blood and started the apocalypse…that he's being targeted."_

_Cas sees it as it is, "The truth."_

_Dean nods, "Yeah, but it's not his fault that the Apocalypse started, I got the ball rolling. He just scored. They should be going after me…it's my job to protect him, Cas, even if I don't trust him anymore, he's still my little brother."_

_Guilt oozes out of the hunter as Dean's head lower. Cas sighs and stares over the hung head at the swings that are rocking to a stop. A human would lie right now, give out false hope. An angel would declare that this was bound to happen, that it is fate. Yet at the moment, Cas feels like neither and quietly states, "It is merely gossip."_

_"But you don't…"_

_"I will watch out for him."_

_"Thanks."_

_They don't look at each other, till Cas gently pulls his arm enough to cause Dean to look down at their hands. "Dean."_

_Green eyes snap up at his, a quiet eagerness on his face revealing that he wants to know, will hang on every word, on what the angel is going to say. "Yeah?"_

_Cas rolls his shoulders, glancing briefly at the swings. "I was not talking about the actual swinging as the thing that was childish. I enjoyed it…more than the brothel."_

_Dean chuckles at this, letting go of Cas's wrist only to pat him on the shoulder, a grateful look on his face. "Alright then, no more jumping competitions." He pauses enough to flash a playful grin, "Scaredy cat."_

_The flat glare makes Dean snicker as he walks back to the tiny sand pit. The two continue to swing well into the night, but they no longer dare tempt fate and take the plunge. They're not ready yet, but maybe one day they'll have a rematch._

* * *

Sam locks onto Cas, something akin to worry when the angel is balancing only on the tip of his toes. Any further, and if he didn't know the guy was a supernatural being, he would be worried that Cas might fall. "You ok?"

The question jerks up Cas's head, a brief flash of wariness and caution in his eyes. Pushing back, he swings lightly back onto his feet. "Yes."

"Cause…I've been doing some reading," Sam swallows, fidgeting slightly, "On angels…and…" He watches as Cas's face tightens ever so slightly and he knows he's losing him. "Look, I know you don't want to talk about it, but I thought if we're going to watch over Dean together, I wanted to let you know that I'm willing to listen if you need to talk it out or something because from what Anna said and what I read falling ain't a stroll in the park…"

He knows he's rambling and it only stops when he hears a barely heard scoff. Castiel is looking at him strangely, like he doesn't know what to make of him.

Shaking his head, Sam runs a nervous hand through his hair. "Sorry, it's just…"

Castiel's voice is not the suspected cold, neutral tone. The tone is the even but in those blue eyes there's a sense of awe. "It is somewhat amazing," he starts, "and baffling at time to remember that you and Dean are brothers. It is hard to get him to pick up books, much less research."

Sam can't hold back the laugh. "You had problems too huh? Join the club."

"Club?" The confusion tightens Castiel's face before he shakes his head lightly and lets it go. He's used to things flying over his head now. The two stand quietly, listening to the wind howling through the Royal Gorge. Cas breaks the silence. "It's a mirage."

It is Sam's turn to be confused. "What?"

"This jumper is not a ghost or spirit, just a mirage."

"Then how…I thought only mirages were illusions from heat and dehydration?"

"Sometimes, but think of it like a spirit coming from the other side. There are some that wish to pass into the physical realm."

"Mirages," There's disbelief in Sam's tone; his mind racing to analyze what Cas has told him.

Castiel continues onward, blue eyes narrowing at the bit of rail where the ghost jumper is reported to fling himself over. "Yes, their yearning is so strong that sometimes they can appear in this realm without possessing things or people."

There's a missing piece. Eyes narrowing, he stares at the same piece of metal. "How's it possible then for this mirage to be able to hold the connection for about fifteen minutes and be seen by an entire crowd?"

The angel tilts his head and fixes a look as if Sam should know the reason why. "It is the Apocalypse Sam. The battles between angels and demons are starting to affect other supernatural forces."

Great, thinks Sam, just what he wants to hear. Sighing, he crosses his arms. "Anyway to get rid of it?"

The nod makes the younger Winchester sigh with relief. "Cover the rail with blessed salt and recite a simple exorcism should work."

Sam sends the angel a weak smile, "Good to hear." Then he hears his name being called, bouncing and echoing off the suspension wires and wind. Turning, Sam sees Dean waving and whistling at him to come over. "Guess Dean's done flirting," he glances over his shoulder to see Cas's expression but the angel's gone.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Whew, I am glad I finally got to type this one out. It's been hounding me for a while. And look at that, chapter 13, totally didn't know that. My favorite number, tied with 25. No wonder it's a darker chapter. That and it is set after Abandon All Hope. So brace yourself. I feel like I should do a chipper one because it's Labor Day weekened. Who knows.

**Chapter 13: Ashes, Ashes we all fall down.**

_Castiel is sitting on the steps, descending away from the back porch. He's hunched forward, elbows perched on his knees, long fingers entwined with his chin lightly resting against them. He seems small compared to his usual stoic straight posture. As Sam inches forward, he spots the tan coat is pulled closer around the thin frame than normal. A slight change in perspective and he spots the shivers rippling through the angel._

_He's never seen Cas shiver before and he knows this little thing isn't right. Knows deep in his bones that it shows how far Castiel is falling. And how far, he doesn't even want to know. If he asks, Cas will only shrug it off and say it is nothing. It's a bad habit he's picking up from his brother._

_Dean might be losing sight of it or taking it for granted, but not Sam. Castiel is an angel first and foremost and from what he can tell, fallen angels don't have a great track record. If anything, he's never heard or read of angel falling the way Cas is. It's a slow burn._

_Stepping out, it takes only two steps and one whoosh with the arms to drape the blanket over the angel. It might not help in the long run of schemes, but it's something he has the power to do…the choice to make. He waits for the sneer or the glare, some sort of rebuff and for those graceful shoulders with hidden wings to shrug off the blanket._

_Cas merely jerks slightly by the heavy weight, eyes snapping upwards to lock on Sam. The question is burning on his eyes._

_"You looked cold," whispers Sam, his voice an utter wreck from the grief of Ellen and Jo's death...and the bottle of whiskey he drowned an hour ago. The numbing effect hasn't kicked in and it saddens him briefly that not too long ago a bottle that size would have wasted him. Now it only barely warms the tips of his fingers._

_Cas lowers his head back down, "I am not...cold...not like how you humans perceive it."_

_Sam plops himself onto the stairs, the black jacket splashing against the dull brown of the blanket. He bits back a grimace as a splinter stabs into his hand. The crisp night air stings his lungs. It smells like snow, but the sky is not tinged that rosy color. "Wanna talk about it?"_

_The silence tells Sam that Cas will not talk. He's like Dean in that manner and if he does talk, it will only be to the older Winchester. Speaking of, off the distant, the shattering of windows and the bashing of metal echo like death chimes throughout the scrap yard. Dean's mourning the only way he knows and both are too raw to expose themselves to that hurricane._

_"I would have liked to have known Ellen and Jo better," Castiel whispers, voice full of a dashed hope. The Harvelle women took to Cas like he was a puppy. Sam remembers their laughter, which still rings loudly in his head. And when the next day, Jo suggested Cas join them in the car, Sam couldn't help but smirk when the angel nodded and said he would like to._

_There was a flash of hurt on Dean's face but soon was replaced with relief and happiness. What those three did on the ride, Sam will never know, but he knows what the angel is feeling, even if the angel doesn't know himself. To finally reach out and make friends, only to have them snatched away is common. It's like a major slap to the hand, telling him that he was poisonous and didn't deserve any friends. That he was a plague to anything he touched. Sam shook his head, he can't have himself projecting onto the angel._

_"I shouldn't have left them." The guilt is evident._

_"You couldn't have done anything," Sam whispers back, cringing as screeching metal pierces the night air. "There were too many hellhounds and Jo...there's was nothing."_

_"I could have killed Meg." The trembling rage is so different from the normal detached coldness, sending shivers down Sam's spine. He flicks his eyes over to see Cas's knuckles go white. "If I'd known..."_

_Another loud crashing and a cursing up to God pulls at Sam's chest. Next to him, Cas grabs the edges of the blanket and pulls it flush against his coat, curling even deeper into the shadows._

* * *

Bobby sends Castiel to the outskirts of Pontiac, Illinois because Dean isn't picking up his cell and it is almost past curfew. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't have fond memories of Pontiac and he already can feel the faint whispers of Jimmy's yearning to see his family. But he knows that they are not there. Amelia and Claire were staying at a friend's house when Castiel saw them last, right after Dean yelled at him in that gold and white laced room.

He needed to keep his promise to Jimmy and knew that whatever actions he might do, the repercussions would affect Claire. Not only would she be hunted by demons but now angels wishing to eradicate the tainted blood line. So he flew down to them, whispering apologies to Amelia and a gratitude to Claire. Then he branded their ribs and told them to leave and never look back.

Ending the call, Cas glances down at the small black numbers and reads the date. He knows where Dean is.

With a quick flap, he lands quietly between two oak trees, pockets the cell, squares his shoulders, licks his lips unconsciously and takes one step forward.

Cas walks instead of flying. It feels right, approaching a place of sacredness. Yes, it sounds a bit extreme. But he has read the novels, those few pages Chuck wrote of that fall afternoon in Illinois. He knows of the awe and importance this place will mean to the humans. So, he walks quietly, the tip and tap of his black shoes clicking off the deserted road.

On that dusty two-lane highway, where grass turns a shade of brown and the tall corn stalks send long shadows over the cracked black tarmac. There's a heavy stone pressing deep into his stomach as Cas spots the Impala parked carefully on the side of the road. Taking in her dirty form, the angel swings a left and heads off into the field towards the small wooded region.

It doesn't take long, stepping through the thick underbrush till he reaches the edge of the ring. The trees are still in the same position; however they are now rotted corpses of their former selves. But from their remains, younger trees are blossoming upwards, green leaves stretching towards the mid-afternoon sun. Wildflowers splash colors of red, yellow and white through the rich green grass and golden hay. This place truly has become a place of rebirth.

And there in the center is Dean. His large brown leather jacket and green shirt are tossed to the side, a shovel laying over them. His black shirt is soaked in sweat making the dirt on his tanned arms run rivulets of mud.

The hunter is panting hard, green eyes fixed on the ground. A few feet before him, the crooked cross is weathered like a piece of driftwood. It's fallen even further, touching the baked earth.

Taking in a deep breath, Castiel closes his eyes, gathers his grace and shoves it deep into the vessel, hiden away from prying eyes. This place is an open area for angels and demons, yet at the same scares away other supernatural begins. A warm gust of wind whips lightly at the tan coat. He hears the ghostly whispers of dead siblings who helped save this human dance through the air.

A shiver running down his spine, Cas walks forward silently. Dean's head snaps to the side, glistening pain-filled orbs wide with fear. Then they soften with recognition before flickering back to the ground. Drawing near, Cas catches a glimpse of a red can and a blue box perched behind Dean's legs.

Only when he has stopped a few inches away does the burning smell of gasoline hit him. Blue eyes darken as they take in the large six foot deep hole where the dark stains of rotted wood are a stark contrast to the lighter soil and a metal lighter is rusting at its edges.

Dean shuffles by his side, the click of another's lighter's lid flicking up and down. Shifting slightly, Cas soaks in the pale stricken face that highlights the smudges of dirt but also draws an almost feverish tinge to Dean's cheeks. A pink tongue dashes out and licks the chapped lips. A bright glint of light hints at the empty liquor bottles that are strewn behind the gasoline tank and salt bag.

Another breeze filters through. But this time there's almost a hint of sulfur and the screams of the damned crawl through the grass. Green eyes dash up to Cas's face, multitude of questions bombarding on him. Despite the brief cut-off with his power, the angel still can read every thought poured out to him.

_It's been a year_. The eyes tell him. _And I still wake up every night picturing myself in that hell_. There's a quick hardening. _Why the hell did you leave me in there? Why did I have to dig myself out? I thought I was going to die again? Or that it was all some sick joke of Alistair's._

_I called out for help._

Then guilt and depression drown the green till only numbing black makes them fall downwards with their heavy burden. _I'm cursed…I'm damned…I can't do it…_

_I want to be dead again._

_Things were much simpler being dead._

Castiel reaches out then, placing a hand on the trembling shoulder and waits quietly till Dean faces him again. _Don't throw this gift away_, the angel tells him with determination shining in his eyes.

_I'm sorry I left you in there_. A bird chippers off to the side. With a quick glance Cas takes in the smooth weathered rock he had laid against, gasping with breath and trembling with over exhaustion from mending Dean's body back together while his remaining brothers and sisters stood watch. It had been too bright and the air too clear. He remembers them waiting and watching with utter relief as Dean's hand burst through the soil.

Flicking his attention back he sees how Dean's hanging onto every action and thought…and emotion radiating off of him. _You can do it, Dean. I will be with you this time._

_I am not leaving you in the darkness again_.

The two stare at each other for a few minutes longer, their silent soulful conversation ended but the understanding and friendship shining onwards.

Then Dean dares to reveal a tiny, true, honest-felt, grateful and relieved smile. Rolling his shoulder slightly, he leans a bit into Castiel's grasp as he flicks the lighter on.

The tiny flame of hope flares to life and with a single toss, Dean throws it down into his grave. Immediately, the flames take root, eating up the gasoline and wood with the crackling of salt. The fire is not the usual coffin burn flare, but is somehow more humble and slow.

Dean slumps onto ground, legs drawn up awkwardly as dirt caked hands drape over his knees. From the torn knuckles and soil and grass underneath the fingernails, Castiel can guess that Dean had not come with the shovel and the intension to salt and burn his grave.

Sitting there, Dean watches as the fire bounces off the walls while the smoke climbs into the sky before fading away into nothingness. The broken but still whole cross almost seems to glow with the orange light, casting dark shadows against it. Castiel merely stands quietly, close enough to feel the sleeve of Dean's shirt against his leg. He stares into the flames and watches as the abandoned lighter melts under the flames' blue caresses.

They stay, Dean sitting and Castiel standing, till the fire dies out and long into the night. It isn't till the sliver of the moon peeks through the trees that Castiel turns and walks back the way he came.

Dean closes his eyes, head dropping downwards. He should be crying, knows that Sam would say that is the healthy thing to do, to let it all out. But he can't find the tears. He's all dried out and all that's left is a gaping hole.

Groaning, he pushes himself onto his feet shivering as the cold night air presses down on him. Bending down, Dean yanks up his long-sleeve shirt and shrugs it on before grabbing the shovel and leather brown jacket. Shaking off the grass, he tosses it over the cross. The cross wobbles under the weight but doesn't snap and is steadfast once more.

Pivoting, Dean grabs the left over salt and begins to sprinkle it in the grave and the dirt pile across from him. As the last grains falls out, he tosses it over where the bottles are before jerking his head up at the sound of rustling grass.

Cas is back and has a shovel in his hand. The two share a stare that speaks volumes of words. Castiel mouthes something behind barely moved lips. But the way his eyes seem to drift shut and the tilt of his head, the moonlight outlining his face against the night making him appear more angel than human, Dean knows it's a blessing. It only takes a few seconds then those clear blue eyes blink up at him awaiting his order.

Nodding, Dean slides his shovel into the pile, pulls out a full load and dumps it into his grave. The slice and crunch of Castiel's shovel marks the next round as the soil rains down.

The two work in sync and utter quietness, the only sound coming from their shovels and the dirt being laid to rest. The rest of the world remains deathly quietly and for once, there is pure stillness in the fields of Illinois.

* * *

_Sam wakes with a jolt, sweat running down his face. The blanket slumps in his lap as he scrubs his hands over his face and pushes back his hair. He still sees Ellen and Jo leaning against that counter as the blast shreds through their bodies. He sees Castiel locked behind a ring of holy fire, a devious Meg grinning darkly with unspoken horrors reflecting off that golden gleam in her black eyes._

_"They will all burn Sam. Whether it is fast like the Harvelle's or slow like Castiel's...everyone you love and hold dear and then those you barely even know will burn." Lucifer's words ring loud and clear as if at the Devil himself is standing right next to him._

_Shaking his head, Sam blinks away the nightmare and realizes that he is still sitting on the porch, leaning against the handrail. And from the faint gray sky, he can guess that it must be nearing sunrise. Pushing himself upwards, Sam grabs the blanket he had draped over Castiel and glances around to find the angel._

_It's too quiet and there is no more bashing of metal. Walking into the house, he spots Bobby passed out in his chair by the fireplace. Laying the blanket on the empty couch, he begins to search the house and soon realizes that a certain brother and angel are not present. Yet, the Impala is still parked outside._

_Frowning, he pushes the screen door away and trudges out into the frost gleamed graveyard. His feet crush the gravel and are drawn to a homing beacon he can only guess where it leads._

_The soft murmuring of words pulls Sam downwards. Crouching behind a Volkswagen van, he peers through the shattered window to where he spots the two missing companions. They are in a circle of wrecked cars and mangled parts are strewn about. It looks like a massacre in there, with the guts of cars and Dean's rage wrecking pure havoc._

_Dean's hunched on all fours, fingers bloody as his fast breaths crystallize in the air. "Go…away…" Dean rasps as if he's been screaming all night._

_Castiel's shoulders are hunched and the tired expression so human on his face, tells Sam that this request is an old one. "No Dean. I made a promise and I will stand by it."_

_What promise, wonders Sam, tied the two even closer than Cas pulling Dean out of hell or him dying for them...or Dean showing Cas the little things that made humanity kickass. What promise? It scares him on some level, Sam realizes, because promises never end good when one's a Winchester._

_"Then you'll burn too," hisses a darkness that strikes a cold stake of fear in the younger Winchester._

_If it hits the angel, he doesn't show it. Instead, Cas merely tilts his head upwards squinting at rising light. Sam's eyes widen, mouth dropping as he takes in the black eye, split cheek, nose and lip and the blood running from his forehead. The trench coat is ripped and black with stains he doesn't want to know. He shallows down the bile that threatens to rise. Cas allowed himself to get hurt, allowed for Dean..._

_Eyes dashing downwards at Dean, he spots the crowbar only a few inches away from the busted fingers._

_"If that is what it comes down to…than I shall burn."_

_The absolute resignation makes Sam bit his lip hard to stop the trembling. A flash of the angel standing behind the ring of fire and he knows how close Cas had been to death and why he was cold upon his return._

_Dean snarls animalistic and hurls himself from the ground with a vicious speed. His hands slam into Cas's chest and pushes him hard and fast into the tool bench. Sam can't see his brother's expression but the tightening of white knuckles is enough._

_Then something transpires between them, just like always. This strange little thing where they don't need words is unnerving to watch and Sam always feels like he is intruding._

_Dean breaks his grip, staggers away as if the mere sight and touch of Cas is poison to him. Castiel's mouth begins to open and Dean spots it. But before he can hear, the older Winchester runs out of the ring of fallen cars, halts briefly to take in Sam's form, hurt and surprise shining out before a steel mask falls shut, locking away all emotions._

_Sam rises, his hand stretching out. "Dean."_

_Dean merely snarls unintelligible and marches back to the house. Sighing, rejected arm dropping to his side, Sam turns to see Cas walking up to his side. "Let's get that fixed up, huh."_

_Sam needs to salvage something, achieve some goal. Dean needs something to fix, and gain an ounce of control. Bobby needs to work, to feel useful once again. And Cas…he needs…_

_"I'm fine, Sam." Tearing his gaze from Dean and the house, Cas smiles with a twitch of a corner of his lip lifting upwards faintly for the first time at Sam. "Thank you for the blanket."_

_Sam finds himself smiling weakly back, a chocked sob of grief and relief making tears shimmering in his eyes. "No problem."_


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Don't own these characters whatsoever. Yeah, that's all I can think of at the moment. Just wanted to point that out.

A/N: Okay guys, so yeah, this chapter kinda ran off. The idea just wouldn't stop (I blame a friend of mine, we had a discussion about what monsters the show should have and this is the result) and before I know it, I got like ten pages. So enjoy this extra long little snippet. And lookey, it's actually a bit more on the light-side than that last one.

**Chapter 14: Clap your hands and Tinker Bell will live**

_Sam finds himself humming a little tune on his way back from the library. It's upbeat and he finds himself nodding along. There's a spring to his step and the soft fluff of snow underneath his boots brings the needed bass. __The fresh sharp bitterness of the snow and the quietness it brought to the small town in Nebraska heightens his good mood. The snowman leaning to his right. The snowball fight a few feet away. The three snow angles by the motel sign didn't help and Sam actually finds himself grinning._

_Trudging up to their door, Sam quickly stomps his boots to get rid of the snow. Behind him, the Impala sits parked, a fine white layers covering her like a blanket of goose feathers._

_Twisting his glove off with his teeth, the other hand occupied with books, Sam fishes out the motel key and opens the door. __Sliding into the warm room, slamming the door closed Sam tugs of his hat as he walks into the tiny common room. "Hey."_

_Dean's sitting on the floor, crossed legged at the foot of his bed. The TV's turned off but the old-school radio is quietly blaring Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Green River". Dean mumbles something, waving a hand carelessly off in his direction. Shrugging off his damp coat and gloves, Sam drapes it over his chair. Laying the books on the table, he opens his laptop. Waiting for it load up, Sam stretches out and turns to take in what has his brother's attention. "What are you doing?"_

_For a moment he's scared because Dean's just sitting there with these rocks lying before him. He's so lost to the outside world, his face tightened in intense concentration. It wouldn't surprise him anymore if Dean starts to drift off or just snaps from all the strain. Heck, Sam's surprised they're not in an insane asylum with what they've been through._

_A breeze follows with a flap of wings and then Cas is in the room. Fixing his attention on him, a warm greeting shines in the angel's orbs. "Hello Sam." Then he flicks his attention to the stack of books. "What is it you are researching?"_

_"Oh, nothing." Which is totally a lie. He grabbed every book on Lucifer and Hell that he could. "How have you been?"_

_Castiel walks over to the fridge, where he pulls out a bottle of beer. "Fine."_

_Dean's voice shouts in victory. "Ah Ha! Try to maneuver yourself out of this one." Leaning back onto his left hand, Dean is grinning like a maniac while his other reaches out to take a drink of water from the glass at his side. His brother is wearing a simple pair of sweats and a battered Marine Corp shirt they had picked up at some random Army and Navy store._

_"What? No beer?" Sam teases._

_Dean merely rolls his eyes as he points at the angel, who is tossing his cap into the sink. "Cas is a freaking mother hen, wouldn't let me drink a beer if we played this game. Said I wouldn't be a fighting chance if I was 'incapacitated'."_

_The air quotes around incapacitated makes Sam chuckle as he walks to sit down across from Dean. Dean lashes out and pushes Sam up onto the bed. "Watch where you sitting Sasquatch! You really are like a teenager." It's the first time Dean dares to make eye contact with him, those green eyes sharp and alert._

_"Sorry," huffs Sam. Flopping down on the bed, he peers over the edge to take in the black, red, white and green stones. The stones are in some strange design on the faded rough brown carpet. A tiny pile was at Dean's feet and another stack is where he almost sat down. "What are you playing?"_

_Deans scratches his head. "Forgot the name, but it's some old game, kinda like Checkers and Mancala and Battleship all rolled into one."_

_Castiel, who watches Sam's routine with an inquisitive look, squints his eyes barely in mischief. It's a little thing Sam's starting to pick up. All these expressions and ticks of the angel, especially concerning those eyes, spoke volumes of facial expression. He might not be as good as Dean, but the mere fact he's picking up on certain things perks Sam's good mood._

_"It is something Zoroastrians invented. It is a game of creativity." Castiel sinks down across from Dean, sitting cross-legged as he takes a sip._

_Dean scowls at him, "Why can you have a drink?"_

_"I am not the…newbie here, Dean." There's an almost teasing tone which makes Dean huff. But that indignation is warm and Sam can see the tension seep away._

_Sam had been afraid that after the beat down in Bobby's scrap yard that the two were drifting apart. Heck, Dean hadn't called or texted the angel. Then all of a sudden, here's Cas and Dean sitting together, teasing and playing a game._

_"What did Bobby need anyway?" Dean's leaning forward now, running a finger over the rim of the plastic cup. He's got his head tilted and licking his lips, not once blinking. It's a distracting tactic that Sam's been a victim to on many occasions while growing up._

_Castiel picks up a green rock, "He needed me to translate something concerning a vague reference on the horsemen." Then he places the green rock between a red and white. Suddenly Sam swears he sees the shape of a Celtic knot snap into focus. But it's gone and he thinks that he's losing his mind because all there is are rocks in lines._

_Dean curses and reaches out gathering all the rocks and starts to spread and mix them up. Castiel takes another drink from his beer to cover up the flickering of his lips._

_"Just you wait, Cas, one of these days..."_

_"You said that the last twenty times, Dean. I think we should play poker. You have been meaning to teach me."_

_Placing a white rock smack dab in the middle, Dean lets out a long, thin grin on his face. "Oh no, big boy, I got you this time." The eagerness and determination vibrates from Dean, whose fingers are now tapping in beat with Rolling Stones and the amusement shines in Cas's eyes as he looks at Dean._

_Then Dean slaps the angel lightly on the knee, "Come on, Romeo, I don't have all day."_

_Castiel sighs and moves a red stone to the left, followed quickly by a trigger-happy black stone to the far right. Above, stretched out, books forgotten, Sam finds himself chuckling inside as he watches, the warmth seeping deep into his bones melting away the coldness of the winter outside._

* * *

"Aaaachu."

Dean flicks his gaze at Cas, who is walking quietly beside him twitching his nose and looking down as if he didn't know a nose could make such a noise. "Gesundheit."

Cas nods a thanks and they continue their walk, not making anything out of the ordinary that an angel just sneezed. With each step on the gravel pathway, Dean ponders on the case. Something has been targeting college students, particularly men. They seem fine but a few days later they lie around and appear to be high twenty-four seven. Then poof, the guys disappear. It's a strange one, and it reminds him of the case involving that vampire who gave his blood to women saying it was a drug. Then Dean remembers Gordon and Sam standing with bloody hands over the dirty deed. He quickly shakes his head cause it brings to focus another Sam who's crouched before a possessed woman, mouth outlined red.

Raising his eyes, Dean spares a glance and sees Cas scanning the area around them as if he's never seen a wooded park before. It's late at night and right on the cusp between summer and fall. They don't talk and that is just fine with Dean. He always hated small talk. Then Cas sneezes, an actual loud, high-pitch sneeze. Stopping in mid-step, Dean turns to see the angel frozen in his spot. His pale face is wide with shock, his nose twitching slightly.

"You okay there bud?"

"Achuuu!"

"Bless you."

Cas is about to remark but another sneeze erupts out of him making his whole body rock, his head whipping backwards.

"Dude!" Dean reaches out and rests it gently against Cas's shoulder to steady him, "You're going get whiplash. Allergic to dead leaves or something?"

Cas sniffles more, blinking his eyes constantly. "Jimmy is not allergic…"

Dean can't help but let out a teasing smirk, "Someone thinking about you?"

A pinch confused look follows right on schedule, "How does sneezing and someone thinking about me relate?"

Chuckling, Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, "It's an old saying. Still didn't think angels could get the sniffles."

"We don't." Cas narrows his eyes, "Except…" A soft groan follows blue eyes staring up at the sky, "Oh crap."

Dean wants to cheer, instead he spots the seriousness. "What?"

But that's all Dean can say before two very hyperactive women pounce him. Cas tries to reach out, but he staggers backwards as his body doubles over with sneeze after sneeze shuddering his frame. The women drape themselves over Dean, one a blond, the other a red head, full pink lips moist and purring. Their wide pale eyes shimmer silver for a split second in the night.

"Hey there sugar."

"My, aren't you a sexy beast."

They're wearing mini shirts and white tank tops covered in what Dean wants to say is glitter but that can't be because it sure as hell doesn't sparkle and almost seems to disappear in the air. In front of him, a brunette is dressed in a similar fashion but clearly is the leader. She smiles seductively at him, totally ignoring Cas behind her. Raising perfectly manicured nails, Dean has to take a double take, but there hangs a Pixie stick.

Shrugging with one shoulder, she blinks slowly, her voice smoother than the hums of approval from her companions. "You want some?"

Dean can't help but chuckle, "A sugar stick, nah, think I'll pass. Besides, didn't your mother tell you not to accept candy from strangers?" Despite how attractive these women are, giggling and running their hands down his chest and sides, Dean knows a supernatural creature when he sees it.

The brunette laughs so timid and for a second Dean finds himself being pulled in. "Come on, just one hit."

"I-"

The woman goes flying to the side, right into a tree. Castiel is before him panting, eyes red with tears prickling at the edges. "Get away from him." The growl is enough to make the pebbles at their feet rattle and Dean can't help but gulp.

The two other women are not shrieking or snapping out some corny lines, instead just blinking, and blinking once more. Then it happens. They scream that high-pitch squeal and tackle Castiel leaving for a split second a dust of something sweet in the air.

"Oh my god!" The blond woman is running her hands through the angel's thick hair. "Damn, what a vessel!"

The red-head is behind Castiel lifting his coat tails, "Where the wings? Where the wings?"

Castiel struggles to bat away the women's hands that are groping and petting him. It's as almost as if they are trying to eat him or at least touch him to death. There's a clear red blush on his cheeks, the blue eyes wide with that old familiar shock yet somehow he's muttering string after string of Enochian that Dean knows isn't all full of peace and good-will.

Dean tries to leap in and grab one of them yet finds himself flung hard into the brush. Thorns stabbing into his jeans, he draws out his gun and points it at the blond woman. She's moving too fast to get a fix, vibrating almost in place. "Damn it."

Castiel notices Dean's move and has time to raise a hand before the red-head raises his arm way above his head, while the blond is running lips up and down his throat. "Don't shoot, it will only disperse them. Find a-" Then another sneezing fit befalls the poor angel.

"Find a what?" Every instinct makes Dean want to fire and shoot these creatures. And the mere fact Cas is trying to break free but can't makes him itch to fire. But he trusts Cas. "What the hell are they?"

"We're fairies, darling."

Dean pivots, gun aimed at the brunette. Even being thrown hard into a tree, she only has a few branches in her hair and some dirt smudges. "Fairy?"

Her smile is pure white teeth, "Oh yes."

"Where the wings then?" He spares a glance at Cas, who is tripped and pushed into the ground, the women still fawning over him rubbing their hands all over his arms and chest. Tears are running down his face, sneezes racking his throat sore as he tries to roll over onto his chest, shoulders rolling as if to protect something.

"We're kinda like hummingbirds." The low sultry voice pulls Dean's attention back, jerking backwards when she appears right in front of him. The pixie stick is now a few inches from her face and that clear glitter blows gently on him. "One little taste…and you'll be on a high that will last forever…think about all you can do…"

Dean licks his lips, not knowing why. All he can see is her silver eyes while a humming fills his ears. He barely hears the loud sneeze and a snap of something that sounds like wings followed by painful twinned grunts.

Then the brunette's wrist is wrenched back and she hisses darkly at his left.

"Dean!" The gruff, strained voice is enough to snap him out the haze. Dean shakes his head and takes a couple steps back bringing up the pistol. He can't remember when he lowered it. "What the hell?"

Castiel is panting, nose running and sniffling, eyes puffy and sweat is glinting on his face. He's covered in the faint sheen that same substance on the women, "It's fairy dust." Cas growls not once breaking his gaze from the brunette's cold face, tightening his grip on her wrist to the point where if she was a normal human it would be broken. "Highly addictive and makes one forget things…The Greeks had called it the Lotus."

Dean feels his blood begin to boil as he rubs his face with his sleeve jacket in hopes of getting rid of the stuff. "That does it, how we kill this bitch?"

There's no response and when he finally lowers his hand, "Cas?"

Cas is wheezing, his free hand is clutching his chest. The brunette fairy easily breaks his hold, rubbing at her red wrist. "Angels are allergic to our dust." The smile is anything but sexy. "He's asphyxiating, caramel."

Before he even blinks, Dean shots the fairy point blank range in the face. She bellows in a cloud of dust, sprinkling them lightly before a dirt devil appears and forms back into the tall beauty.

"Now that wasn't nice." But the fairy merely stands there gloating as her sisters limp back to her side. Their clothes, arms and legs are ripped, black blood running down the pale skin. Whatever Cas did to them makes him feel proud at what a badass his angel is even when he's getting his ass whipped by a couple of women.

Dean keeps his gun trained as he rushes to Castiel's side, who's pretty much on the verge of face planting into the ground. Draping an arm over his back while aiming the pistol at the fairies, Dean feels the dust cover his fingers and curses himself to Hell. No wonder Cas didn't want him to shoot, for all he knows during the explosion Cas and himself inhaled more dust. And he really didn't need to fall back under their little spell. Which, he wonders why he isn't. Then he hears between the hacks and sneezes Cas murmuring away.

Supporting him, Dean can only watch as Cas continues to try and heave in breath after breath between the protection spell. "Cas come on, zap us away from here."

"No can do, sugar," giggles the blond.

The red-head twirls a strand of hair over her broken finger. "His wings are covered, can't fly no more."

"He dying," the brunette licks her lips, a hunger look darkening her features. "It's been awhile since we've had an angel."

Trembling with rage, Dean grinds his teeth, "I swear to God, when…"

"What douse him in water?" finishes the blond. "It ain't gonna help, gumdrop, he'll be dead by then."

The blond and red-head glance at each other, smiling maliciously before linking their arms and begin to dance around the pair singing some annoying tune. Dean cocks his pistol and really wants to shoot at them, but he has a feeling another eruption of dust is going to end them.

He's running out of options. He can't let Cas die on him, not like this. Cas is a tough, sneaky, nerdy angel of the lord and dying because of some funky dust just isn't right. Dean tightens his grip on that familiar coat and begins to lead them away from the trio, taking a few steps backwards with his buddy staggering at his side.

The brunette fairy raises her hand, "Hey now, hold on a sec."

Dean freezes, tense for another attack. Then Cas leans into him, warm breathe ghosting down his neck. "Dean…"

"Shut it Cas," Dean hisses back, trying to keep his fear at bay. "What the hell do you want?"

"There is a…way to save him."

Dean feels something squeeze in his chest as she smiles again, twirling that pixie stick between her fingers. Cas's fingers tighten against his coat as the angel tries to usher them onwards. But Dean can't, he has to do something and wiggles out of Cas's grip. "What do I have to do?"

There he goes again, bargaining his soul and sanity for the people he cares about. And it scares him because he's not even thinking about. He thought that things would be different with Cas, but it seems as if the angel has made a stake on this Winchester's heart. He hears a poor attempt of a growl of disproval but ignores.

The fairy licks her lips as the two behind stop rejoicing, clearly not liking this turn of events. Their cold glares at their boss halt when she tosses them the blue pixie stick before pulling out another one from her pocket. The two jump at the stick, clawing at the soil and grass. Their addiction makes them oblivious to the outside world and the wager being conducted.

"We play a game." With a flick of her wrist, she appears to pluck out a leather bag. "You win, I'll help angel over there. I win, you drop this case hunter."

A gurgled cough and a torn sneeze is all that it takes. Dean shuffles off his coat, shaking off the dust before turning it inside out. He turns lowers Cas gently to a nearby tree. The lack of resistance shows how weak and sick the angel is. Rolling up the jacket into a ball, he rests it gently behind Cas' head who is now leaning against the rough bark. "You hang in there, don't you dare die."

The annoyed but determined glare is enough to ease him. "You are in…sane..." Cas huffs out. "C..an.t…win."

"Now you're realizing this," tsks Dean. "Just keep saying that spell there and I'll get you back to your stubborn self in no time." Turning he walks up to the head fairy as she drops gracefully down onto the ground, sitting cross-legged. Dumping out colorful rocks, she splits it into two piles. "Object of the game is making a design."

Sitting across from her, Dean gathers his rocks, "That's it?"

"Yes," then a flash of a wicked smile, "But one rock at a time and the rocks will reveal the winner. Whoever wins three out of five rounds gets the prize."

"How do I know you won't cheat? That these rocks aren't rigged?"

The other fairies giggle and cackle, draped over each other and pouring their own pixie sticks into their mouths as their wounds slowly bleed out. Eyes glazed over, they hum and bounce to a beat that's beyond comprehension. They're getting annoying and frankly terrifying. Women and sugar highs, the fairies are like a bunch of those fawning teenage girls that scream at a level only dogs can hear.

The brunette drops a rock in the center and it immediately turns a null gray color. "That is what happens when one cheats."

Dean spares a glance over his shoulder and sees Cas give a weak nod. He's barely breathing, eyes at half-mast and dull and there almost seems to be a rash appearing over his neck where the one fairy was kissing him. Glancing back at the rocks, Dean licks his lips. "Okay then," and drops a red rock to the left of the gray one.

He loses in the end, not surprisingly. But the brunette fairy is laughing as she pours the rocks back into the bag. "Don't fret, Dean. It makes you even hotter and sweeter."

A hot blush dashes across his checks. Dean wants to punch the fairy but he wills himself still. He can't cover himself in more dust if he has to drag Cas to the Impala and figure out how the hell to save him. And he will save him, because he isn't going to lose Cas.

The leather bag falling into his lap is unexpected and Dean finds his head jerked upwards, questions pouring out of his eyes.

"You were entertaining," the fairy continues to hum in pleasure as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I rarely play anymore but I have a feeling you will use them more than I." She turns, muttering something. Throwing her hand out, a powerful gust roars out of the woods and Cas vanishes in the wind.

Dean launches to his feet, "What?"

"Don't worry sugarplum; angel is merely free-falling a 1,000 miles per hour to get the dust off of him." She pulls out a red pixie stick, ripping the top off, "He was weak anyway. Not much grace on those bones." Snapping her fingers, her sisters stumble to their feet where they were sprawled out on the grass twisting fingers in the air. They are pale as corpses but they are no longer bleeding. "Remember our deal, no saving the humans." Then, in a breeze they are gone.

A few hours later, washing himself clean of the dust and tossing his clothes into the half-filled tube, Dean crashes on the motel bed trying not think about how on the evening news the missing people were found all dead at an abandoned house. He knows the fairies have left, covering up their trail. Guilt knaws at him, but it lessens when Castiel appears weaving in and out on his feet. The blast of ice-cold air bellows at the curtains and ruffles the sheets.

Dean peers upward, taking in the ragged form before scooting over and without being told, Castiel collapses right next to him. The angel is breathing normally, his eyes no longer puffy or red. The only sign of the allergic attack is a slightly red nose. Dean shifts his gaze and stares numbly at the ceiling with Cas staring tiredly at the stripped pattern of the comforter.

"Let me guess, they're the reason why you're terrified of women."

"Is it that obvious?" The dead-panned statement makes Dean smile weakly.

"Well if it means anything, if I had to deal with fairies constantly I'd be terrified myself."

There's silence and for a second Dean hears Cas's breathing even out. He tilts his head slightly to see if the angel is asleep, which would be a first. Instead those eyes, once again clear and sharp thank god, are staring at him.

"Thank you," Cas whispers. There's a sliver of fear, at how close he almost came again to dying but there's gratitude and that usual stoicism to cover up the fact.

"No problem." Dean finds himself whispering back, the words _That's what family is for_ stuck in his throat. "Just let me know if you angels got any other odd-ball ticks I need to know about."

Castiel nods. "I will let you know."

"Good." They continue to stare until Cas begins to chuckle ever so softly, a bemused look falling into his eyes.

"What?"

"I was thinking about what if Zachariah was to meet the fairies."

"Oh…oh…"

It's enough, Dean thinks, because Cas is worth it. And it's a little thing he can do to pay back for all that the angel has done for him.

They both break into soft peals of laughter till Dean laughs himself into exhaustion, a grin plastered on his face while Castiel closes his own eyes and meditates as his battered body heals.

* * *

_The mental institution is busy and Sam finds that despite the busy crowd, the security is pretty lax. He's walking with a few other patients from his group therapy session and passes the open windows of the recreational room. His brown eyes sweep over the crowd hoping to draw Dean's attention. They need to talk, get a game plan._

_He spots his brother at the checkers table by himself, face grim in concentration. It's the same, lost expression back when Dean and Cas were playing that rock game. An amused glint brightens his face as his lips move in a conversation with some invisible person. Dread fills Sam hoping that Dean hasn't chosen to actually snap. There's a difference in playing insane and being insane. He'd rather leave this place with mentality intact. Dean clearly points in victory as he slams the black piece on the other side of the board. He then raises his hand and points at the air across from him, saying something._

_Then the victory grin is gone and the mood switches like day and night. Dean collapses back in his chair, crossing his arms, grumbling away. There's a guarded look, walls up at full maximum. Sam knows that Dean only gets that look when he's pushed into talking about something he doesn't want to talk about._

_As he passes the open doorway, Sam hears some other patient sneeze a couple times in row. Dean's voice breaks through the air with clarity, "It's the fairy dust."_


	15. Chapter 15

A.N: Nope, you are not dreaming. This is an update! *throws confetti* Sorry about the long wait, long story short: finished school, been on the road and finally have a good internet connection. Despite this though, I have finished up typing the story, just gotta clean it up little. So yay on that :)

**Chapter 15: Man's best friend**

_Sam wakes up to a round of rapid dialogue and something hard pinging against the trash can. The entire ruckus is occurring outside and as he glances at the clock, he can't help but groan because really three in the morning. What type of person has a lover's spat at such an ungodly hour?_

_"Dean," he moans, tugging the blanket over his head and shuffling deeper into his pillow._

_If he has to suffer than so does his brother. The older Winchester is right next to the window, so he's got to be awake. But there's no response. Lifting his head, Sam bleary gazes over to the barely ruffled bed. Eyes narrowing, he hears a pair of choice words that makes him realize that it's Dean standing outside. Pushing himself off the bed, Sam shuffles over to the door, ready to throw it wide open and chew out his brother. Then the gruff tone of a certain angel, whose voice is strained and sounding like a shot in the dark in its abruptness makes him pause in the doorway. Whatever is going on even has Cas on edge._

_There's heavy stomping and Sam barely has time to dodge right when the door flies open. A thundercloud of disappointment pours into the room as Dean tromps by him. "What the hell?" As Dean turns into the kitchnette, the faucet exploding at full power, Sam peers outside to find an empty parking lot. "Dean, what's going on?"_

_"Anna, that's what is going on," grumbles out a response._

_Sam spins, head whiplashing upwards. "Anna?" Surprise blasts away any future plans of sleep. "Where has she been?"_

_Dean splashes ice-cold water onto his face, muttering. "Heaven."_

_"Heaven? She got caught? Is she okay?"_

_"Sam! Enough with the twenty questions!" Dean's short temper paints a vivid picture of a very large iceberg._

_Sam closes the front door quietly. Behind, Dean pivots and throws the towel hard into the sink as he staggers over to his bed. Sitting on the edge, he bows his body, cradling his face in his palms, voice low and quiet. "Cas turned Anna in."_

_"What?" Sam dashes to his own bed, ears ringing hard. "I-that doesn't fit Cas at all."_

_"It happened some time while you were in... Cas said he was being watched and couldn't do anything when Anna appeared. He said that he tried to warn her but it was too late." Dean voice is wrecked, the new information shifting their entire perception of the angel. It's makes them wonder._

_"You don't think..." Sam whispers, not wanting to bring it up._

_"It fits doesn't it. I mean I always had my suspicions, if not him than some other angel. And Cas was already there."_

_The deafening silence wounds the brothers more than anything. It brings an unpleasant thought of how much Cas is hiding from them, not telling them. Then again, Sam counters, they never really asked Cas about his past or Anna. Then again, Cas had bluntly pointed out it was their-his fault for giving up and starting the Apocaplyse. But, now in spending so much time with the angel, Sam can see another reason why Cas is so driven to win this war. _

_Sam ponders, the doubt festering and dying in a vicious loop. He glances up at Dean ready to see the disappointment and shattered friendship in ruins at their feet. "Dean, I'm sorry. I know you were close with Anna and now with Cas..."_

_"He's so much like a Winchester it's getting a bit ridiculous." Dean's voice is soft and a hint of understanding. Those pained green eyes look up at him, a little thing shining more outright and open than all the others. "It's funny but I still trust Cas, Sam...enough to wait it out even if I'm against it."_

_Sam swallows, wondering where this level of trust and loyalty comes from._

__

_

* * *

_

Dean groans as he pushes himself behind a large pyramid of canned corn. Outside, the massive riot continues to erupt, flashes of light and screeches rattling the broken doorframes. The hunter tries to recall how a simple supply run to the local grocery store has turned into a battleground for angels and demons. He swears one minute he was trying to decide whether he wanted apple or pumpkin pie when the windows shattered, raining glass everywhere. Another blast later, and half the customers were blinking black eyes as they rushed out, to meet the angels head on. The rest of the normal humans scattered screaming and slamming into each other in the confusion. Dean had gotten pushed hard into the broken meat deli glass, slicing his thigh.

Now, here he is, hobbling over to the first-aid aisle with one measly pistol and knife in his pants. The remains of the grocery store rattles, debris coughing up in the air. He swears he even hears the barking of hell hounds. Thankfully though there are two good things. One, Cas actually had his phone on this time and was in the country so hello quick back-up. Secondly, he decided to keep the Impala parked a few blocks down in the public parking lot as he cruised the town.

Thank God for small miracles like that. Except, Cas not popping in is getting a bit ridiculous. He called five minutes ago. Another large blast drowns the hunter in a sea of metal cans. "Shit," Dean curses as a can hits in him hard on his back. Grunting, he fights to maintain a tight hold on the small towel pressed hard against his bleeding wound. Limping forward, leaving a bloody trail, he finally turns the corner, right into the face of demon.

The butcher is a typical burly of a man with a huge, white mustache. Black eyes blinking, he smirks widely as four other goons appear behind him. But that isn't what freaks Dean out. Nope, it's the snarling of an invisible beast behind the meat counter, munching away on a few bystanders.

Mustering up a smirk, Dean says, "Hi," before a meaty fist slams him into a row of boxed noodles. Shaking his head, Dean tries to reach for the knife but a flash of tan appears and the butcher man blazes out of existence. Spitting out a mouth full of blood, Dean snaps at the new player, "Your timing sucks."

Cas merely sends a quick glare over his shoulder before the other four pounce. Cas sends a hard punch into one demon sending him crashing into the ground. One from the left, Cas lands his hand on the demon's forehead burning the demon out, while another slams a punch hard into Cas's gut. The forth is bouncing, grinning as he eyes Dean, knowing full well who he has in his sights.

Dean pushes himself away from the shelves, throwing himself at the forth, slamming the knife home. He watches with a dark satisfaction as the demon squirms while it heaves out its last breaths. Yanking out the knife, he slices at the throat of the demon whom Cas had punched. As the light sputters, body falling to the ground, there's a loud crashing and Dean remembers the true threat. "HELLHOUND!"

If Cas hears him, he doesn't know. Cas's eyes narrow into slits, a deadly calm radiating out of him. Twisting the demon whose attached to his chest, the angel sends him crashing into a new group of demons that are charging down the meat aisle. The move takes out three demons, the others pushing their way through the mess. Dean wrestles the first one while he sees in his peripheral Cas throwing out his hand, a very high-pitch whine crackling pieces of glass into fine dust. Kicking away the demon, the hunter automatically goes to cover his ears, watching with squinting eyes as a bright light fills the room. Shadows of a massive disfigured body of a hound pounces, long claws ripping through Cas's arm.

An angelic yelp makes Dean throw himself hard against the floor, the tile floor exploding into shards at the new decimal. The demons wail and crouch themselves onto the ground. As the sound becomes to unbearable, blood trickling out of his ears, Dean feels the pain numbing away as his eyes adjust to the brightness. He swears he can see for a split second the crackle of lighting whip at the hound, knocking the dog away. The buzzing fizzling out, he hears Cas finish the incantation with a twirl and a jab downwards, he stabs the hellhound through the base of the skull and spine with his sword. Dust rises as the corpse falls with a thud. Cas pulls his knife free, not even flinching as blood pours down his fingers from the ravaged claw marks. The angel merely shifts his shoulders, hides his sword once more eying the new situation of the grumbling demons a few feet away.

Sound and light returning to normal, Dean staggers unbalanced back to his feet, shaking his head clear of the ringing. He's seen Cas in action barely a handful of times and the poor guy got his butt handed to him, except when fighting those other dick angels. But this, Dean can't help but notice that this was Cas' natural element, what he's meant to do. Fighting demons with a gracefulness and determination that Dean knows all too well. He truly understands the feeling of awe and terror, the Bible hints at when writing about these creatures.

There's a crashing sound off to his left as a demon pulls herself off the floor. The two barely glance at each before sliding into each other's space, Cas lightly pushing Dean down the row, stopping a demon's punch. With a twist, the demon's wrist snaps and in a blink is burned out of existence. Dean spots another round of demons coming from the front of store. Reaching out, he grabs the angel's coat, pulling him towards him as he slices at another recovering demon. Adrenaline pumping, the pain in his leg oblivious, he protects Cas's flank, while the angel is cutting a path, both chanting exocerisms after exorcisms. It's a teamwork Dean only ever experienced with Sam and his dad.

Falling into a tempo, Dean realizes Cas is leading them to the back door. "Really?" he grunts out as he punches away the last demon from group two, three closing in fast eager to take out the injured angel while a smaller group four runs in from the another direction.

Cas slashes his hand in the air and an entire wall collpases down onto the group four. "I had to walk in and we will have to do the same thing, unless you wish to finally meet Michael."

"No," A final stab into the back of the demon, "I'm good." In a flash, Dean finds himself skidding the rest of the way from a harsh final kick. Then Cas is in front of him, swiping blood from his bleeding arm. Kneeling, he begins to paint some strange symbol as Dean tightens his grip on the knife, listening and watching as demons crawl from underneat the rubble of the shelves. Cas closes his eyes, fingers hovering over the sigil, the remaining demons freezing in their place. It only takes a few seconds before light blazes behind the possessed eyes ending the fight for now. With a sigh, Cas rests his palms on the dried sigil at the same time the deadly bodies collapse onto the floor.

Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, "Couldn't have done that earlier?"

"It will buy us time with the demons, but it might have attracted the angels." Cas grunts, face flashing in a grimace, fingers on his mangled arm spasming.

Dean jerks forward, glancing down at the wound, where he spots hints of the white gleam of bone. "You okay?"

"Fine, just merely..."

"Spell took a bit out of you?"

"As did the hound."

Dean lets out a tight laugh, "Now you develop humor." Bending, he grabs Cas's arm and gently leads them both up onto their feet. "That's better."

Then Cas surprises him, bending himself slightly under Dean's arm, making the hunter lean on him while his injured arm is cradled at his open side.

"Dude, what did I say-"

"I am not the only one bleeding profusely." Right when those words leave the angel's mouth, Dean feels the burning throb of his leg and bits back a hiss of pain, Cas's uninjured hand curling in to hold him up.

"Right."

With that, Cas leads them out the back door, his eyes scanning every direction. Dean can't help but think that the body next to his should be larger, taller and slightly more bulker. That the thick padding of a Carhart jacket and long hair should be brushing against the side of his face. It should be Sam at his side. Yet, Cas's slightly smaller but equal frame is a comforting difference. And despite being slimmer, the strength emitting from the sure grip enforces that it is okay for Dean to give into this.

And as they stagger into the back ally, Dean wants to joke about if Cas had a nice fall, when he senses the man's whole entire body tense freezing them in their spot. Turning his head slowly to look forward, Dean locks his gaze on what Cas truly was keeping an eye out for, his fear manifesting itself in an angel blocking one end of ally, standing quietly next to the dumpster.

Dean growls, already bracing himself for the free-fall that he's asking for, "Cas, do it, just fly us out of here."

"If I do that, with you no less, it will be easier for them to capture us. I will have to do several jumps to loose them. I highly doubt your bowel movements will agree with you afterwards."

"Shut up."

The angel steps forward, the shadows deepening the stricken look on his face. The man is deeply tanned, his brown hair streaked blond, complimenting the loose white blouse and black pants. Pale green eyes glance up and down, as the sword swings numbly from his calloused fingers. On the other side of the store and throughout town, the battle continues to rage on.

"Castiel." The angel's voice rumbles like distant thunder.

"Fasiel." Cas breaks slightly away enough for him to summon his own sword to his shaking hand.

Absolution is flat and unforgiving, "You shouldn't have come."

"I had too."

"Because Dean called for you? Have you fallen so low that you are now his lapdog?" There's almost a curl to Fasiel's lip as he spits out the last word.

Dean wants to protest but Cas's other hand nudges slightly against his jacket, silencing him. This isn't like dealing with Raphael, no protective ring of holy oil. And while there seemed to be some resemblance of recognition with Raphael in terms of hunter and hunted, Dean can feel that these two truly know each other.

Cas leans forward, his face falling still, blue eyes drowning in sorrow, "I do not wish to kill you."

"Is that what you said to Uriel before he died and all the other brothers and sisters that have stood in your way?"

"Anna did the deed," whispers the black haired angel.

"Right, Anna," Fasiel tilts his head and takes as step forward, "I must ask do you think about her often?"

Dean wants to know what the heck does that statement mean because a flash of utter guilt darkens Cas's face before masking into a neutral expression of no hope and numbness.

"Let us go, Fasiel," presses Cas as he totally leaves Dean's side to step in front of him, shoulders straight and body posed ready to defend. The soldier is back.

Fasiel watches with narrowed eyes at the new position. Dean readies himself for another fight, when the green-eyed angel throws his sword into the dumpster, raising his hands in surrender. "You haven't changed, Castiel, no matter what our superiors tell us."

Confusion and disbelief tighten both Dean and Cas's face in unison. But it is Dean who voices, "What?"

"There is only the four of us left now. When you rebelled, the rest of us are tested daily, kept under survelliance. Our superiors fear that whatever made you side with Dean, that it must within us as well." Fasiel glances over at Dean. "We do what is asked of us, but we know something is wrong. It is not in your nature to make such foolish choices, not after everything." Then Fasiel smiles warmly, that light reflecting in his face and Dean knows instantly that this angel isn't like the other dicks. In fact, he swears that thin smile and eyes the color of moss feels familiar, like he's seen them before.

"Besides, Father brought you back so that has to mean something, no?"

The light tone is like a switch. Castiel's shoulders sag, the sword vanishing while Dean feels the wave of relief. "Thank you."

Fasiel nods. Dean shakes his head, feeling he's intruding on something. "Well thanks for free the 'get of jail' card, can we go now."

The other angel chuckles, locking his warm eyes on Dean. "Still very much a loud mouth, Dean Winchester." Dean can't help but cock his head in confusion, that nagging familiarty in full force, "There were times when we were fleeing the Pit when I wanted to knock you unconscious. But the rest of us feared that maybe you wouldn't wake up then. That and Cas was a bit possessive of you, glad to see that hasn't changed."

Cas turns to glance at Dean, taking in the full blown face of realization. Wide green eyes blink towards blue and Cas nods in confirmation. Here was another angel that had helped Cas raise him from Perdition, who had seen what he had done and wasn't at all acting like the other selfish pricks. A loud blast sounds from inside the store, all three locking onto the building.

Fasiel turns to spare a glance at them. "We...I could use your help, Castiel." The unspoken words _Come back _echoes off the flaking walls.

Dean doesn't want to confess it, but a tiny part of him finds himself scared at the prospect. He wants to keep Cas but another part says that it would be best because that would mean more allies on their side. And God knows, how badly they need another person or an army at least. Lastly, Dean knows it would make Cas happy because he can see the longing clearly written on the angel's face. He wants to go home.

Cas shakes his head, shoulders tilting inwards. "I'm sorry Fasiel, but my place is here." The loyalty of an angel picking Dean over his own family once again, of turning down the chance to rejoin, to decide to protect him over leaving Dean here and fight a battle through the town makes Dean sick. He didn't ask for this and yet here it is in his hands, this newborn bond growing more profound. It scares him to death, the only other time feeling this way was when Dad put Sam when he was baby in his little arms and told him to run out of the burning house.

A crash from behind knocks the hunter out of his thoughts. He watches as Fasiel's face widens and doesn't need to see to know there's a pack of hounds. He can smell their stench and hear their growls and snaps. In a blink, Fasiel's right in front of them as the hounds come barging in. "Then God be with you."

Fasiel places his fingers on both their foreheads and sends them flying. The last thing Dean remembers is Cas's hold returning tightly on him. But the scream ripping out is anything but pure grief as the hounds tear apart the bright grace of another angel that dared to save Dean Winchester.

* * *

_Sam stands in the bathroom, his hand on the knob on a barely open when he hears a private conversation occuring in soft tones. Curosity holding him, Sam watches through the reflection on the mirror as Cas ties on his shoes. The angel only woke up from his return trip back to the present an hour ago. There was uneasiness but when Cas had spoken of Anna's plan and then said that the trip would weaken him, only to mean that he could have died, the doubt burned away and he's glad Dean's trust was not misplaced. His brother was right. Despite some poor decisions, the angel is fighting for them, a part of Team Free Will._

_"Cas, just stay awhile okay, you gave me and Sam a bit of a panic attack when you fainted back there and here too." Sam can't see Dean, his brother posed outside his position, but the worried tone is clear enough._

_"And thank you once again for letting me rest," Cas is speaking in a clipped tone, hinting that he is uncomfortable, "The honeymoon suite was very...well equipped."_

_There's the springing of the mattress. "Look...about Anna..."_

_"It is her fault she went after Michael's vessels. Her death was inevitable." Talk about trying to reason out one's guilt over a situation, Sam thinks as he watches a coldness enter Cas's eyes. He can't help but wonder if this was how Cas had tried to overcome his actions in what lead Anna to go all Terminator._

_"Cas, I highly doubt you forced Anna to think about going into the past."_

_"I told her that if she even dared to come near Sam I would kill her, Dean." Sam feels his breath knock out of his chest. "I didn't even hesitate saying it."_

_There's a deafening silence. Sam can hear his heart beating hard against his chest, afraid at this turn of events. Because, he cannot understand how their little friendship went from little things of helping each other out to full blown protection. To have an angel, heck anyone, willing to kill in order to save you...to have that kind of loyalty makes Sam tremble hard. He clenches at the sink, trying to ease away the knots in his stomach when Dean's voice whispers out exactly what he's feeling. "It scares you."_

_Cas shoots back an answer that holds no substance. "It's war."_

_"Enough with that bullshit of an excuse, it's war, it was orders," there's a huff, "Cas, Sam and I are not stupid. We know that you opened the panic room door and let Sam out."_

_Silence is enough of a confirmation as well as Cas's paling face and wide eyes. It's the most open, Sam has ever seen of the angel._

_"And after everything we've been through and how Sam and I have our own little secrets we're not proud of and don't share, we totally understand why you didn't tell us. But what really matters is how you handle the repurcussions, and well, you've made up for it."_

_"I kept blaming you and Sam..." Cas shifts his feet, looking down at his shoes. "It was inappropriate for me...it was just..."_

_"You were angry and upset. I totally understand, been there, done that many a times. It's called being human, Cas."_

_There's quietness once more. Cas's face softens and there's relief rolling off of him. He turns his head to look at where Dean is. "I should go." He stands and takes a step outward, enough to turn fully back to the bed, "I'll call-"_

_Dean steps into the reflection, deep into Cas's personal space. His brother rarely does this with anyone else but Cas. "I was there with you when Fasiel bit the bullet." Sam's brow scrunches wondering who is Fasiel. Dean presses onward, the bags under his eyes from not sleeping, hair a bit wild and clothing wrinkled, little things from sitting in the chair waiting quietly for the angel to wake up. "You were close to Anna, so this has to be killing you man."_

_Cas's face tightens, his eyes closing off. "I'm fine, Dean."_

_"Like I said, bullshit." Then Dean drapes his arms around Cas and pulls the angel into a tight hug. Dean's staring straight ahead with a serious glint to his eyes, but his voice is light with quip. "We need to work on your definition of 'weaken me', create a scale from one to ten, one being like a tickle to ten meaning you're going to kill yourself."_

_Sam watches as Cas glances down at the floor, not sure what to do but he doesn't break Dean's hold. Then as if on their own accord, his arms work upwards and clutch light and gently as Dean's back._

_Tilting his head to rest his chin on Cas's shoulder, Dean's voice is so soft Sam barely hears it. "Don't scare me like that ever again."_

_"Dean," whispers back Cas. _

_"I'm not going to watch you kill yourself or get smote by Michael." There's a dead certainity to Dean's tone that scares Sam. Then his brother tilts his head inwards. "Thanks for protecting Sammy."_

_Cas blinks slowly. Till the end of his life, Sam swears he saw a tiny tear trickle down the angel's cheek. But before he truly can confirm it, Cas turns his head away to gaze out the window, tightening his hold as Dean does the same. Sam sighs and quietly shuts the door._


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Don't own these characters, belong to the CW and Kripke.

A/N: Yes, we are getting to that point, where things just get darker and darker. Man, I miss the happy times but I can't wait for the new episode. Such conflict, lol. Thank the gods for left-over Halloween candy. Speaking of which, hope everyone had a great Halloween.

**Chapter 16: Up and Down like a seesaw**

_Dean's doesn't pride himself on showing off his 'people' skills. Sure, he has a knack with kids and flirting with attractive women. He can charm and talk his way out of any situation. But it's gauging and reading people's feelings that are more of Sam's forte, or at least he lets everyone believe that. It's a skill he honed quickly after the fire, during that year of complete silence where he watched the world move onwards without his mom._

_And later on, when he finally did talk, he spoke with such abandonment and reckless as if making up for lost time. But still, Dean remembers the tiny ticks of dad's shoulders or a certain glint in his eyes and knew exactly what was going on. And as Sammy grew up, he learned to read that kid like a book. It's a skill that helped him when he tried to diffuse the bombs that were John and Sam's epic fights._

_So really, it's not that big of a deal or shock when Dean picks up over the months since rejoining with Sam, that there's a certain shift whenever Cas comes into the room. He remembers the awkwardness, tension and all business between the two in the beginning. But somewhere during these past months, Dean's noticed little things popping up._

_Like when Sam scouts his chair slightly upwards to make room for Cas in the back seat of the Impala. He catches the two sitting comfortably next to each other, more often than not pouring over books and notes as he's drowning in the nearest bottle. Or how, Sam will pick up a couple extra books from the library or bookmark a site the angel might find interesting. With that, Sam almost becomes Cas' go-to man for anything related to technology. Dean can't help but chuckle when he caught the tail-end of Sam talking Cas through the phone on how to set up a voice mail. _

_It's more than that though, beyond the tech-geeky thing. Sam touches Cas more, swallows the slim shoulders with large gently hands, worry etched on his face. And when he thinks he can't hear, Sam will ask Cas if he's okay and not to work too hard. They're learning to share not just between the two of them anymore, but the occasional three. There's Sam moving his salad plate between him and Cas, as if sharing his dinner. Then again, that night, Cas might have eaten it, if he wasn't craving for red meat like some freak of nature._

_With these two, Dean watches how the tension bleeds out instead of exploding. It's almost natural...organic in its slow formation. It's those type of little things. Like how Sam cracks a tiny smile whenever he teaches Cas something new about his cell phone. Or how his eyes light up when Cas rambles off some story about a long, lost culture or creature._

_How Sam calls Cas for help._

_How he looks when Cas gives him the tiniest flicker of hope on what Sam deems is his condemned soul._

_How those two, when they think Dean isn't looking, glance at each other, unspoken words bouncing back and forth. Or how they both mirror childish expressions when coming up short on how to gank a certain false prophet in Blue Earth, Minnesota._

_It's these little things, Dean reflects on as he gently lays Cas down on the bed, shifting him so he's on his side those pained, broken orbs staring dully ahead that rot away the last visages of one safe harbor, while another builds itself. It's the look of a wrecked future being born on that pale face that makes Dean realize it's time._

* * *

Dean watches as the convoy piles quietly out of the trucks. The two guards scan the outskirts of the ruined city for any Croats, alertness making their trigger fingers twitch against the butt of their rifles. This whole situation screams wrong and his gut tells him that they shouldn't be doing this, that they should wait and enter in another part of the city. And if Dean can sense this, then so can his future self. Green eyes narrow and for the first time, Dean feels sure of himself here in this god-forsaken world because no matter how ruthless and militant this future Dean has become, he's feeling the same thing.

Fiddling near Cas's truck, Dean waits for the orders, not sure of his role in this whole play. If anything, he wants a gun so he doesn't feel totally naked, but knows that no one will give him one. Shortage, Risa whispered when he asks, can't spare him one if he's going to go disappearing at any second. Speaking as such, he watches as Risa gathers the duffel bags, the others working quietly around her. Sparing a glance, Dean turns and takes in as his future-self motions for Cas and the two walk off privately towards an overturn truck.

Squinting, Dean takes in their postures. His future self is stiff and coiled like a deadly snake, finger a hair's breath away from the trigger. Meanwhile, this twisted Cas is loose-limbed, one finger tapping an imaginary beat against the butt of his machine gun, while long fingers on his other hand twist on the frayed sleeves.

They begin talking, quick whispers and a stare down that increases with intensity. Dean doesn't know how he and Cas of this time line came to this, to act like almost complete strangers. The warm friendship that had been growing from their rocky trust in each other is reduced to ash, resulting in Cas following Dean like some abandoned and abused puppy that has no where else to go. And it seems Cas knows it too, but he hides the pain and disappointment underneath all the drugs, booze, women and utter bitterness. They might not butt heads openly anymore, but tension is thick like blood, this future Cas with his sharp tongue against jagged steel of eyes.

Cas says something and future Dean glares at him with hot rage, snarling something that is anything but kind. Cas' shoulder trembles, the insane grin plastering across his face. It's clear to see that the angel isn't firing on all thrusters, even if he wasn't hopped up on pills. It's as clear as day, Dean realizes, as if someone switched on the light on how reversed their roles are. Cas is so much like him, from the slight lean in his stance to the cocky attitude and expressions. It's like the angel picked up all the bad influences of humanity, forcing them to fit his new existence. Then there's his alternate self, whose as numb, distant and dickish as an angel. He's finally become what he always feared becoming, an absolute soldier, burning away all traces of humanity.

And it sickens Dean. He wants to throw up and curse at Zachariah till he's blue in the face. Whatever traces of friendship and comfort they found in each other during these past two years is sucked away by the black holes of Sam and Bobby. Everyone has their breaking points, even the stoic angel Castiel had fallen. It's a tragedy Shakespeare would have loved to sink his teeth into.

Feeling tears well-up, Dean quickly rubs his eyes watching the rest of the scene with a stinging sensation. Cas tilts his head in an insult to the innocent movement of the past. The drug laden carefree attitude evaporates in a blink, leaving behind a cold expression as arctic as glaciers. His chapped lips move swiftly and sure, pronouncing the few words clearly. Future Dean breaks character for a split second, face falling into utter wretchedness at being caught. Green eyes glance sideways, a flicker of undiluted sorrow and an unspoken apology leaking everywhere except towards the one person who deserves it the most.

Cas merely shrugs, scuffing and not accepting the apology as his own blue eyes lock hard at the cloudy sky. Then the ex-angel turns and walks away towards the group as the older Dean's face schools back into the _'fearless leader'_. Without a glance, he marches off in the other direction back towards his jeep. In the wake, Dean's instincts are ringing loudly that something bad is going to happen...something only Cas and his other self know of.

The ex-angel walks by him, the smell of incense tinging the air. Dean doesn't know what it is, but his hand shoots out, grabbing a hold of the angel's arm. Thin fabric is a stark reminder of who he is dealing with. He's too skinny as well, that hidden strength he always felt thrum under his hand is gone. "Cas."

The fallen angel glances at him, a familiar inquisitive gaze fixating on him. And god, Dean wants to smile, happy to see that underneath all the mess that is humanity, is his old friend. "Time to rock and roll," the cracked voice jokes without any trace of humor.

Dean lets the old agitation wash over him, squeezing the arm, eyes narrowing to belay his seriousness. "Don't do anything suicidal, man, it's not worth it."

"Not worth it?" Cas chuckles as he pulls his arm free, rechecking the gun before flipping off the safety. "It's the end of the world, Dean. And if you get the chance to rewrite the past, then I say it's worth dying for." Cas doesn't mention killing the Devil, as if he knows that it's a futile act, the last ditch effort of a lost cause. His voice is no longer denial laced as it was during the drive, but something soft and calm as if he's a dead man walking and knows it.

"Cas, what's going on?" Cas's features twitch as Dean continues to stare, falling back into the routine as simple as breathing. It's a little thing he and Cas have done since the get-go. It's a little thing he does when he wants something. It's worked in the past, so hopefully it will work here. Unintentionally, he leans into the ex-angel's personal space. Cas's hazed eyes sparkle and a true chuckles rises deep in his throat.

Then a harsh, clipped tone breaks the moment. "We're moving out. Now." Urgency and foreboding become more palpable, darkening the sky even more.

Cas smirks a Winchester patented smirk right at him, knocking away his breath. "Let's dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight." Then he pivots on his foot, "Stay off to the side. If we get caught in an ambush, the Croats will more likely come after us than you."

And with that, the tiny cluster of humans march cautiously deep into Croat territory on their way to kill the Devil.

* * *

_Cas blinks up at him, his blue eyes still swallowed in pain. But Dean can almost sense the angel reading his mind. He knows and Dean doesn't like it. The hunter can picture that if he wasn't in such agony and could move and talk, Cas would be tying Dean to the bed post or knocking him out with the Jedi mind whammy._

_Dean smiles down at him, patting his leg. "Get some rest, k'." Then he gets up and heads to the bathroom to grab a towel. Behind him, he spots Sam sparing a glance over at the angel, worry etched all over his face. The pastor follows his gaze, concern too over the change in plan. He probably didn't think an angel could be taken down with a string of words. But Dean knows just how far Cas has fallen, how they're both clinging to a tiny lifeboat ever since God turned them down. And while Dean has been clutching hard at the angel, making him his rock, he knows that he's the one dragging Cas through all the muck of humanity, tainting him with all those bad influences._

_He once asked Cas to never change. But he never counted on himself changing and how that would seep over into the angel. And despite being tough, the nerdy little angel isn't hanging on anymore, the drinking binge a large blinking billboard saying ten miles till 2014. He's slipping further and further into the abyss till one day Dean will blink and there's Future Cas all drunk and drugged, mocking him with a bitter tone._

_Nope, Dean's fingers curl hard into the towel, tearing it slightly. It won't happen. He won't let it happen, not anymore. No one else is going to die on his watch._

_He's got to be the one letting Cas lean on him for once, to save him for a change. And despite them both being crumbling havens, it's all he can do. There's no other choice anymore. Walking over to his brother, Dean drops off the towel before turning to pick up his keys._

_Sam's eyes snap to him from where he's bandaging up the preacher. "Where you going?"_

_"I'm just going to get more supplies from the car. I'll be back."_

_Dean shuts the door behind him. Even with Cas's back to him, he feels the accusation burning in his back. Walking briskly, Dean opens the driver's door and slides into the Impala. Sam is stronger than him, he can help put Cas back together again. And Cas is already watching out for Sam, protecting him without Dean having to say anything. So he knows that he's leaving his brother in capable hands._

_He's noticed the little things in their growing friendship and it's enough for Dean. None of them are going to be left alone because they got each other. They'll make it through this because they'll have too. It brings about an eerie sense of peace within Dean._

_Besides, this is something future Cas died for and if there's another thing Cas picked up from the Winchesters, it was the little thing called sacrifice._

_Putting the keys in the ignition, Dean ignites the engine and roars out of the parking lot, Sam running out, screaming his name._


	17. Chapter 17

A.N: Thanks for all the reviews again, you guys :) And heads up, this chapter is a bit of a long one again. Also, it's formatted a bit differently. The flashbacks are italic this time around because having most of the entire thing in italics would be a bit daunting. Either way, enjoy :)

**Chapter 17: Normal doesn't cut it anymore**

Sam knows exactly what Dean's doing, burning all his bridges to make sure none go after him. Every thing's falling apart but Sam finds himself stepping up to the plate. It's a little thing, a tiny statement that he won't let Dean or Adam say yes and it's enough. Bobby trudges on and Cas helps out in retrieving Dean, even if he did beat the pulp out of his idiot brother. And that's when Sam spots it.

A tiny thing that's peeking out under those blue eyes as they stare unblinking down at his unconscious brother. There's something in that expression that sends a warning bell in his head. Yet, Sam shakes his head, stepping into the panic room, announcing that he'll take watch. He wants Dean to see him first and tell him about the plan to go after Adam. Cas merely nods, leaving the two brothers alone. If Sam had looked hard enough, he would have noticed Cas swiping the exacto knife.

Then it's all over in a blaze and a rattle.

Sam can't help but think that he must be in shock, cause he keeps pinching himself all the way from California to South Dakota. Everything is back to normal, forget about Dean actually saying yes, yet somehow dodging the bullet called Michael. They're driving, just the two of them and it feels like old times, when Dean had his back...when the trust was there. Even the tarmac road and hard rock music is the same. They pull up in a stolen pickup truck to Bobby's house, door hinges cranking and slamming shut. Dean walks over and passes a hand over the Impala's hood, whispering an apology before clambering up the stairs, Sam dutifully behind him. It's just like-

With a twist of the knob, the door flies open and there's Bobby glaring at them from his wheelchair shattering the illusion.

The older hunter shifts his heated gaze solely on Dean, "Done martyring yourself for now?"

"Yes sir," replies Dean softly.

Bobby nods then rolls to the side, muttering, "Idijit" quietly underneath his breath. Just like that, Bobby gives Dean a father's forgiveness.

It isn't till they're clustered in the kitchen, toying the ground with dusty boots, when Bobby asks the two hundred dollar question. "Where's Adam and Cas?" There's a levelness in his voice. Bobby knows the answer but he won't count his chickens before the eggs hatch.

Sam is surprised when Dean answers resolutely, "Michael's got Adam." He glances down, lips thinning and Sam can feel the grief at having lost their brother once more. He sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, feeling his guilt at letting Adam get recaptured by the angels brace him for the other factor. "Don't know where Cas is," Dean's voice is tight, "Has he called you?"

Bobby shakes his head, those old eyes dropping down to floor. "Nope." Silence fills the kitchen, the only noise being the ticking of a grandfather clock over in the study.

"Great," hisses Dean, shifting on his feet, fingers flexing open and closed. Sam knows what that sign means and he finds himself cringing for when Dean will go marching out into the scrap yard. One brother's a meat suit and the angel is MIA is enough for Dean to completely turn around and brace himself on the counter, hands splayed open, fingernails digging into the wood. Sam watches quietly, not sure how to handle this explosive side of his brother. It doesn't help either that Dean just crawled away from the diving board.

Then he spots a motion so trivial but a thing he's rarely seen his brother do. Dean's fingertips ease down, running them slowly over each dip and crack in the wood.

_Dean turns the corner, bare feet light on the old floor. He doesn't want to wake up Sam, his dad or Bobby. They've just gotten back from a hunt and they all need their rest. But he wants a piece of that strawberry-rhubarb pie Ms. Glockenspeare gave them as a thank you for getting rid of the ghost._

_He can just smell that pie, taste the sweet and bitter explosion in his mouth. Turning the corner, bright smile on his face, Dean freezes when he spots a dark figure in a coat leaning against the counter. He blinks finding himself in another time but same place. That same dark figure is leaning against the counter in Bobby's kitchen, waiting patiently for him. Shaking his head clear of the flashback, Dean sighs and can't help but fold his arms across his chest. "Cas."_

_Cas lowers his head, shoulders dropping like a boy being scolded by his dad. "My apologies."_

_"You need to stop popping in my dreams, cause really this could have been extremely awkward." Dean finds himself moving forward though, till he's at the angel's side, mirroring the position. Sighing, Dean uncrosses his arms and pulls himself up on the counter. Kicking against the cabinets, hands running up and down the worn-out surface, he keeps the angel company in the comfort of Bobby's kitchen within his dreams. _

Sam realizes the old little things are no longer normal for them. There's a gap in their tiny threesome that wasn't there before. Dad had left one gaping hole that almost destroyed his sons, especially Dean. Yet, John Winchester got them ready to fight the fight without him and Sam was thankful for that. But this new gap was different. It wasn't the mere fact that they were one soldier down or feeling exposed to the elements. It was something more.

Aching little things that are whispering ghosts of Cas. Despite being in the background or only making himself present when the situation called for it, the falling angel carved himself a spot in the tiny world of the Winchesters. It was something Sam remembers being weary of but now is glad that it did happen. It was comforting. It was gone.

It's a revelation that doesn't happen in a blink of an eye but over the next few days. Sam finds that he's growing anxious, a prickling sensation that won't go away. He glances at his cell phone more and more, waiting for the caller ID to pop up. And when he's flipping through books, he can't help but think Cas would find this information intriguing or what his input would be. He's grown used to having someone else to talk to and 'geek out' with.

But for Dean, Sam can tell it is worse. They can't go anywhere or do anything without something reminding his brother of the angel, his green eyes darkening in remembrance. They're parked at a gas station and Sam's running in to use the bathroom. It's an excuse to break away from his brother's brooding nature. After buying an arm full of food and drinks, he walks back to the Impala spotting Dean staring up at the billboard.

"_Dean." The angel's voice crackles over the bad reception._

"_What Cas?" Dean's cleaning his guns, doing a delicate balance act on his shoulder._

"_I think I saw something disturbing."_

_Dean can't help but grin. It's too easy and Cas should know him by now. _"_Oooo, do I get to guess and win a prize?"_

"_What?" Cas's voice is hitched in confusion, "No, why would you win prize?" Ah, there's that tone of what is the bizarre-human-up-to-now?_

"_What is it Cas," Dean chuckles out, "that's got your feathers all ruffled?"_

"_There is a billboard that has a man dressed as an angel perched on another man's lap, who is sitting on a desk. They look like they are about to kiss."_

_Dean coughs not sure what to think of that. "Uh, yeah…" All he can think of is Chuck and those slash fans. "Just promotional stuff, Cas, don't worry about it." Silence, "Cas?"_

"_Those wings are wrong."_

_Staring blankly ahead, Dean doesn't know if he wants to smack himself or Cas silly or laugh his ass off. Because out of the whole homosexual context or the mere fact that it's about a man and an angel who likes to get into personal space is not ringing any bells, Cas is worrying about the wings. Lips twitching, Dean can't help it, he really can't. "Well you know what they say about wings?"_

_And out of everything for the angel to pick-up, Cas snarls into the phone. "That is not funny Dean." And just like that, he hangs up with a loud click leaving behind a Dean whose laughing his head off._

They're driving down a rural country road when Sam puts in the CCR tape. As the first thrums of a guitar begin, Dean reaches out and ejects it, throwing the tape into the back. "Pick another tape." The cold abrupt tone tells Sam all he needs to know. Glancing down at the box, the tapes are still halfway organized, nothing changed since he reunited with Dean. Sadness floods him. Blinking hard, Sam reaches out and turns up the radio before stretching out and forcing himself to catch a nap.

It's a futile endeavor in the end. Rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, he pushes himself upright, realizing that they've pulled over to an abandoned rest stop. Staring to his left, he spots Dean gazing at the map, but it is clear to see that his mind is not taking it in. Lips cracking open, he's about to speak when he hears the crackling of radio static. "Uh, Dean."

"What?"

"Want me to change the channel?"

As if coming out of daze, Dean blinks numbly before staring at the radio. "Yeah sure, it's just static anyway." He goes back to the map, this time outlining some road with his finger.

Sam doesn't believe the statement for a minute. He reaches out anyway and starts turning the dial.

_Dean's smacking the TV, trying to get rid of the static. "Stupid old TV, come on."_

_Cas is watching him as if doing such an innate thing is pointless to the greater of humanity. The angel speaks with a mundane exasperation as if talking about the weather. "When one hears static, an angel is talking to them." _

_Stopping in midair, Dean slowly faces the angel, matching that bored stare with a mocking one. Raising his voice to a light tone, Dean rhymes cheerfully with sarcasm, "And I hear every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings."_

_Cue the head tilt, "That makes no sense, Dean. Angels are born with their wings." _

"_And angels don't talk through static," bites back Dean._

_Shaking his head, Cas leans back in the chair, pointing a long finger at the TV. _"_Angels talk on a higher frequency, yet your satellite and electrical impulses are close enough to get feedback." Then the angel pulls out the narrowed eyes and furrow brow, "You should know this Dean."_

_He does. The gas station and hotel room and all the damage Cas' true voice created. But he also remembers how scared he was, afraid that some hellish monster was on his tail for busting out. "Yeah, yeah." With another whack, strong enough to make the stand rattle, the TV channel flickers back on playing a college football game between Montana State and the University of Montana._

The next couple times Sam picks up on the little things are pure accidents. They're at a regular diner, nothing special. Dean's slowly gaining that old spark back, even talking about kicking a few butts and bringing the fight to the big guns. It makes Sam smile, because the paranoia is getting to him more since Cas blew himself to Oz. He's scared for every time he closes his eyes, Lucifer is grinning at him as he rips out Cas' feathers before grinding the wing bones to dust.

For a split second, all he sees is running rivers of blood instead of the menu. A waitress asks Dean first, flirting away with the flip of her hair and cheeky smile. Dean smiles back, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Cheeseburger with fries and nothing for him."

The young woman nods, writing the order down. She's about to sprint away when Sam grabs her elbow, making her glance down with brown eyes blown wide with irritation. For a split second, Sam swears he sees them flood black. Swallowing, he smiles shakily, "Turkey sandwich please."

The waitress gives a curt nod, pulling her arm free. "Sure thing." As her heels click on the floor, Sam sighs and glances over the table.

Dean's staring absently into his coffee, fingers clenched around his mug in a white grip. "Sorry about that. It's just..."

"No problem, Dean. Didn't know what I really wanted anyway."

His brother merely snorts and flicks at a crumb.

"_You should eat something besides pie."_

"_I do not hunger, Dean."_

"_Then why eat the pie?"_

"_It reminds me of the diner." Pause. "Why do you eat the pie?"_

"_Reminds me of better times." Pause. "I'll have the Green Chili and nothing for him. Thanks, sweetheart."_

Another time, they're walking through a park. The wind is rustling in the trees, leaves floating in the air. It sounds eerily close to the flapping of angel wings. Sam watches as Dean jerks his head upwards, eyes scanning around to spot a certain someone. But there's nothing there except the trees, the wind and an empty park bench. Dean glares at the bench as if it's the cause of all his pain and suffering. Maybe it is.

Next time, they're at some capital. Amongst all the grays and blues, there's a flash of tan in the crowd. Dean's eyes lock on moving target, tracking the coat all the way from the bus stop to the metro station. It isn't till the man turns sideways that they realize his eyes are brown, cheeks cleanly shaven and the blood-red tie.

Sam tries to cheer up Dean by finding a hot dog stand, pointing out attractive women as they sit on the cold marble of the water fountain. Pushing himself upwards, Dean makes his way to the trash can, throws away the hot dog and for the rest of the day, drags his feet around as if he's some zombie.

_Dean's straightening out Cas' coat. The poor thing feels thin under his fingers, not durable at all for this kind of work. Then again, who would ever have thought that an angel of God, soldier in the Apocalypse is wearing a trench coat instead of shiny, silver armor. Patting away some flecks of moss, Dean finds himself jabbering, "Ever think about changing your clothes?"_

"_No." Cas is trying to straighten out his hair, which seemed to go into shock with the Deep South's humidity. "These clothes are suitable."_

_Dean steps back, trying to unstuck his fingers from whatever sap he had run into, _"_Really? I mean this thing can barely withstand a knife attack."_

"_I know."_

_And Dean hears it, the hidden attachment to this flimsy article. He's been there himself, still is, as his shoulders roll underneath the worn brown leather of his dad's jacket. "Maybe, when this is all over, we'll get you some new clothes, at least one pair." Sliding his hands into the pockets that are full of lint, dirt and gum wrappers, he winks at the angel, "Change it up a little, get the girls."_

_Cas huffs slightly, use to Dean's teasing. "Let us interview this fire chief now, Dean. I would like to make one more stop to the Andes before this day is done."_

"_Yeah, yeah."_

Weeks have past now and still there's silence. Team Free Will is limping forward like a wounded animal. They can't function, merely go from one hunt to another. Dean's starting to eye bigger fish though, searching for ways to not only defeat Lucifer but now Michael as well. Sam doesn't want to even think about this personal war Dean's starting with Heaven. He just wants to defeat Lucifer, get Cas back, make sure Adam is up in Heaven with his mom, save humanity, give back books to Bobby...force Dean to retire... take a long vacation and sleep till the end of time.

Glancing over his shoulders, making sure the coast is clear, Sam enters a tiny church. It's nothing fancy or even that modern. He knows Dean would throw a fit, knowing that he's here. He can picture the rage Dean would vent, about how God is not looking out for them and how if Cas couldn't get the Big Man to help, then why would he listen to the Boy with the Demon Blood.

Shuffling on his feet, Sam peers through the other pair of doors, taking in the altar and wooden cross. He finds himself remembering when Dean agreed to Cas' order to find Joshua and how it was the last act of a desperate man.

"_You ever go to a church or some holy place?" Sam is hunched by the Impala, Cas standing next to him, leaning gentle against the hood. Dean's a few houses down, pretending to a priest. "Try to find leads on God that way. Prayer and all that."_

_Cas flicks his gaze down the wet road. _"_I can't." His voice sounds distant and stretched thin._

"_Why not?" whispers Sam._

"_Such things are watched." It's all the angel needs to say, for the floor to drop out. Why, Cas tells them to call him and not pray out loud. How an angel is barred from Heaven, as if he's tainted. As if he's..._

A soft glow captures Sam's attention, pulling his light hazel eyes towards the tiny rows of candles. Straightening, he walks over, sliding a five dollar bill into the donation box. With one strike, he lights a match, the flame flickering strong and bright. The first candle is for Bobby, another for Adam, a third for all the innocent people caught in the crossfire. The last two he lights are side by side: Dean and Cas. Dean's wick is hard to get going, but once it catches, the flame is steady and true. Cas' candle though stutters, not wanting to hold the fire yet the flame is stubborn and clings hard to the wick.

"Please, God." The prayer falls off his lips without thought. Sam knows it's dangerous, that angels, even Lucifer, might be able to zero in on his location. But he has to do it. If there was ever a time, it has to be now. "Let Cas be okay, you have to like him somewhat for bringing him back to life. And we…Dean needs him. He's the only true friend, heck best friend Dean's ever had. And his disappearance...I shouldn't have let him go through with the plan. But knowing the angel, he would have done so with or without my say so. He has a thing for snatching away Winchesters. So please, God, I'm not asking much and I sure as hell don't deserve it, but please, let Cas come back. Please."

With that he takes the long way back to the motel, taking a detour to the vending machine. He's about to drop the quarter in when he hears Dean's voice coming around the corner. Inching forward, he peers over the edge, taking in the slumped form of his brother standing in the tiny ally, cell to his ear.

It's a little thing, he's noticed, how much Dean's been checking and rechecking his messages. The button surely has to be worn out by now.

"Damnit Cas, pick up the damn phone. Where the hell are you man?" There's the flare of the old Dean, snapping out his concern, "It's been weeks and we made a deal with Bobby to check in every three days. Remember that? How I got chewed out by the old man and you merely reminding me that you're not here to perch on my shoulder. Well look whose doing the perching now, bird brain. And I ain't gonna stop-" Dean growls when the beep pierces through the phone. He hangs up, counts to three before redialing.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is," Dean's voice chokes, "I'm sorry okay. For all the stupid stuff I said to you, even though most of it probably flew over your head. And yes I totally deserved that beat down. But if you don't come back some time in the next few days, the next time I do see you I'm going to give you such an ass reaming-" The phone beeps again, Dean hanging up and calling again with practiced ease.

"Cas. Just, just come back. Team Free Will ain't the same without its nerdy little guy with wings." Dean breaths deeply, "Please, Cas. If you hear this and survived that suicidal stunt of yours again…" A baby's wailing drowns out Dean's speech. Sam watches as his brother's body freezes when the mother's lullaby trickles downward like soft rain.

_Dean is glaring hotly at Cas, "You upset her, Cas."_

_The angel glances behind Dean, cocking an eyebrow upwards._ "_It's just a car."_

_It's times like these Dean really hates Cas' deadpanned ways. "It's not just a car!" Turning, he runs a hand over the Impala, "Don't listen to him baby, he didn't mean to scare us half to death."_

_Stepping forward, Cas begins to reach out and touch the dented chrome, _"_I can fix the bumper if it upsets you this much."_

_Dean's hand lashes out, halting Cas' progress. "Yeah and what about the alignment man, I just drove through the ditch." Tugging Cas away from the Impala, he starts gathering his tools, "We're doing this old school Cas. Now, she's a bit upset and frazzled, so why don't you, I don't know, sing to her while I fix her up."_

_It's Cas' turn to glare hotly at Dean, "I do not sing."_

_Dean sends the expression right back, a tennis match of stares exchanged till Cas sighs, his eyes almost rolling upwards. "What should I sing?"_

"_I don't know." Dean crouches onto the ground, laying out his tools for easy reach._

"_Noah sang a song to his animals to calm them down."_

"_Well there ya go." Lying down, Dean shimmies underneath the car, when he hears Cas's voice begin to sing. It's soft, a mix between Cas's gruff voice and Jimmy's light one. He doesn't understand the words, but the beat is catchy in setting a working beat while also soothing at the same time. _

_Bending sideways, he tries to grasp at his knife to begin to hack out tumbleweed caught in the frame. Cas crouches down to peer at him waiting for approval. "Sounds pretty cool, almost like Metallica, when those violins play their songs." Dean catches the brief flash of relief. Knocking his leg into Cas', he jerks his head to the side, "Well, keeping singing buster, you got a lot of making up to do."_

"_You can join in as well."_

"_Oh."_

_Cas breaks down the lyrics. Dean sounds out the words, surprised at the easy pronunciation. Cas starts up again, and when the chorus begins Dean jumps in without breaking the beat. It's like the dueling of Row Row Row Your Boat. As Dean croons, morphing the beat to Metallica's Enter Sandman, Cas hands him the knife. The two sing the ancient song to the Impala, till she's clean and purrs perfectly back to life._

The baby's done crying, the mother's humming and Dean's voice breaks completely. "Please God, not him."

The phone drops hard on the ground, the clatter like a gunshot as Dean's head falls forward, buried in his hands. It's these little things clashing together that Sam knows it's over. Cas is '_dead_'. And, God forgive him, but it's better to think that way. Because it's something Cas would want them to do, to move onwards and finish this fight, no matter the costs or sacrifices. An angel had placed his faith and existence in their hands. Now, it is up to them to end what they started.

Days blur into another week. There's no extra slice of pie in the fridge or root beer stashed in the corner. No spur of the moment supply runs to the store or late night calls, unless it's Bobby. No more CCR in the car or the sliding of the seat. No more books or searches on the Internet or buying phone cards. The chair remains fixated at the table's side, no longer angled at the window. Certain clothes are no longer worn.

Dean's quiet and steadfast on his mission, stressing to Sam that he's not backing down. He's still sitting on the edge, feet dangling over, but he's no longer jumping. Instead, Sam finds himself wondering the Big Jump. In between the naps and driving, Sam finds the notion of saying yes to Lucifer and gathering the rings of the Horsemen not such a bad idea. And Dean, he goes and befriends the demon Crowley, if their uneasy truce can be called that.

It's these little things, Sam realizes staring into the fire waiting for Dean and Crowley to come back, that Cas wouldn't like much. But then again, it's all the brothers can do.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Don't own any of these characters, they belong to Kripke and the CW.

A/N: Hi everyone! Well, here's the latest chapter. If Dean seems a bit out of character or a jerk, it's because I was trying to figure out (and write it) the sudden shift in his relationship with Cas, particularly in terms with him coming back. It was like Dean was relieved but at the same time keeping his distance. So I hope that this comes through. And thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! I enjoy them all :) And HAPPY THANKSGIVING everyone!

**Chapter 18: Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold**

_They're zooming by the World's Largest Truck Stop a few miles outside of Davenport, when Sam lets himself breathe and be grateful that he's lived through one more encounter with a Horseman. Twisting around in the leather seat, he sends a bright smile to the quiet passenger. "Great to have you back, Cas."_

_The ex-angel fixes his bleary eyes at Sam, still a bit greenish in the face. Yet, that condensing glint that evokes that yes, it is a good thing he's back, still somehow permeates the air. "You are lucky I arrived when I did or Pestilence would have killed you both before giving you to Lucifer."_

_Dean huffs hard but keeps silent, eyes fixed on the road. Sam, he can't help but chuckle lightly because he's missed this despite the despondent subject. Patting Cas' knee, he fights to keep the grin on his face as his fingers dig into the thin knee. It shocks him how fragile that bone is now, the barely there warmth seeping through the thin pant leg. He didn't believe Dean when his brother said Cas was human. Then Cas proved him wrong as he fell to his knees, face perspiring and blood spilling out. Then Pestilence crouched down and said, "Not a speck angel left in you."_

_And Sam truly believed that this was it. Even with Cas by their side, the ace in their sleeve was gone. But Cas proved him wrong. No wonder Dean was never truly worried about him, for that stubborn streak was deep in Cas' bones as the recently turned human not only vanquished a Horseman but also a demon. It was pretty awesome to see._

_Turning back to face the front, Sam quips, "Thanks for saving our asses once more."_

_Cas just tilts his head to gaze out the window, watching the black scenery fly by. But Dean doesn't talk. And not one word is spoken till they drive up that old dirt driveway and push open the rickety front door._

_Sam wants to celebrate, take maybe an hour out and have a cool drink at their victory. Team Free Will is whole once more and by the hidden relief on Bobby's face as he rolls out of the study; he can tell that the old hunter is glad the fallen angel is back as well, despite his verbal protests of lending money._

_"Well that's what now, three down, six more lives to go," says the old hunter, "Get in here bird brain, I need help looking for signs on where the Devil might be."_

_Cas nods, glancing over his shoulder as Dean shuffles past him, not even sparing a look towards him. And Sam realizes that even with his and Bobby's words, it's not enough than the single acknowledgement from a single man. Sam lays his hand gently on Cas' shoulder and steers him into the study. "How about I get you something more comfortable to wear and some soup? Those pain meds must be wearing off by now."_

_A brisk side-step and Cas breaks free from Sam's hold. Blue eyes glow hotly in the pale morning light. "I do not need to be coddled Sam." Dean sends an annoyed glare at the angel from his position near the desk. Cas spots the look, yet doesn't do anything except make his way towards the bookshelf._

_Sam exchanges a look with Bobby and he can tell the other man senses it too. There's something different between Dean and Cas. Dean's barely touched the man, just merely giving a curt nod and "Perfect timing as usual, Cas," right after Pestilence vanished. And that was that. _

_It's like Dean's walking on eggshells around the ex-angel, not sure how to interact with the man anymore. Then again they hadn't parted on the best of terms what with Dean blasting Cas to OZ and then the fallen angel giving him a beat down. Gathering around Bobby's desk, Sam drops the issue and for the next couple of hours he and his brother give a report on the mission, which ends with Crowley appearing and the bomb of Bobby's deal with the demon. _

_The dust and shock settling in the room falls into uncomfortable, awkward silence till Crowley's loud smack of his hands pulls everyone's attention back to the doorway. The demon is licking his lips, cunning dark eyes narrowing at Cas. The gloating glee shimmering in his eyes is unmistakable. Then he flashes his intense gaze down to the trio, "Now, if you excuse me, Dean and I need to chat for a bit on how to approach Death."_

_Dean groans, pushing himself off the chair, muttering, "Why me?"_

_Sam finds it interesting when Cas steps forwards, body tense and a slight sneer on his lips. The utter dislike towards the demon is thick. Dean spares a glance at Cas, slightly surprised and a bit unnerved._

_Crowley though, smiles wide and thin. "Don't worry princess, I'll bring your boyfriend back."_

_Fingers tighten into a fist but Dean takes three steps forward, blocking any means of attacking. Green eyes stare solidly at the fallen angel and it's the longest the two have looked at each other since Cas' return. Cas' gaze falls down to Dean's left upper arm before shooting up, as if that's his answer to everything. Dean's face darkens, his voice taut, "Don't."_

_And that is all that is said. Crowley is practically radiating with amusement as if this whole situation is the best thing he's ever seen. Dean merely trudges by, the demon still grinning as he follows the hunter. Cas is tense, face cold as his eyes track the demon. Yet, Sam can see the tired but quiet dangerous stance Cas carries. He spots how the fallen angel favors one side, lips tightening every time he steps. There are bags under his eyes, his hair no longer that wind-ruffled look, cheeks paler and slightly more sunken in. His hands tremble, fingers twisting tightly into the cuffs of his coat._

_These little things are reminders of another big sacrifice Cas has made for them. Even though he's back and filling that Cas-shaped hole, it's not an exact fit. Unconsciously, Cas reaches up and begins to scratch and rub at his chest. Sam sighs and lightly throws a paper clip at him. "Don't scratch at it, you'll make the stitches come undone." _

_Cas scowls slightly, Sam not sure if it was at him or the stitches or just the entire situation. Then he fixates on Bobby, avoiding anything that makes him the center of the discussion with bluntness. "You said you had further research to conduct."_

__

_

* * *

_

Dean's fingers are thrumming against the warm metal table, Cas across from him watching the few college students bolting to their classrooms. The two are sitting at an outside lounge area on a campus, on an unusually warm fall day. Dean has an appointment with the local historian about a potential pagan god. Dean tucks his lips before popping his mouth loudly, interrupting the peacefulness.

It's the day after the reunion with Sam and Dean feels totally off. His brother isn't in some distant state but scouting the neighborhood for any clues. He also has to share a room and car with a person who is constantly there. He's grown used to being along half the time and having these meetings with the angel. Speaking of which, he doesn't know how Sam will handle this inclusion of Cas, cause it's clear to him that they don't really like each other and only tolerate one another because of their connection to him. So, he decides to keep these meetings in secret because despite falling back to his old routine with Sam, Dean doesn't want to let these new habits to die off. They've become another comforting solidity in this chaotic life.

Cas tilts his head down, watching with a puzzled look as Dean pushes over his coffee. "Are you going to give me another lecture on human behavior?"

Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation, never quite expecting what will be coming out of the angel's mouth. But now that he thinks about, the settings and the offering of a drink is pretty much the same template concerning a talk on personal space. "Not really, just thought we could hang out or something."

Cas brings the coffee closer and fiddles with the lid, sniffing lightly at the strong aroma. Dean decides it's getting too hot all of a sudden and pulls off his jacket and long-sleeved shirt, leaving him only in his tee-shirt. He finds himself picking at some flaking paint, not really sure what to say or do. For all their times together, there was always something happening in the background, be it TV, children playing or some epic fight. It was never this quiet and truthfully, Dean finds it a bit uncomfortable. Scanning the area, he looks for anything to strike up a conversation beyond the weather.

His left sleeve rids up a bit, the handprint burn peeking out. It's not a startling red anymore, instead a white skin color, fading at its edges. It's enough to strike an issue that Dean's been meaning to talk about since seeing it..._feeling_ it...at the little Philip joint.

Leaning into the table, the warmth hitting his chest, Dean points at the scar, "It's a nice memento and all from our little trip through the Pit, but you wouldn't happen to know of a camouflage spell to hide it would you?"

"Why?" Cas looks up from dissecting the logo, an eyebrow shooting up to signal that he doesn't understand Dean's request. "It is merely a scar."

"Because, no offense Cas, but you're ruining my sex life. I mean I can hook a girl and reel her in. But when the shirts come off, she gets all disturbed by it. I tell her its' no biggie, just a run in with something very 'hot'." Dean pulls out the air quote, two fingers on each hand doing bunny ears.

Cas jerks his head backwards a bit, face scrunching up at the new expression and files it away for future references. "But then she goes into why is it shaped like a hand? And well, I'm good mind you, but it's awkward coming up with an explanation. So in short, it ruins the mood, at least at my end." By this point both know that Dean's rambling on, "Cause I'm always afraid that she might touch it or do something to it and you'll pop in, smite mode on full blast because you're all possessive over it."

The angel doesn't understand the situation, despite Dean's lengthy and fast talk. Still, blue eyes sparkling with humor while his face remains motionless, Cas can't help but find a flustered Dean amusing. "Dean, it is a mark showing that you have been in physical contact with a powerful force, nothing else. And much like those brands the Witnesses had when Lilith raised them, I cannot hide it because the true scarring resides permanently on your soul."

"My soul?" Dean's wide-eyed now, leaning even further in till he's about half way across the table. "You telling me when I bite the bullet, I'm still going to have this scar on my shoulder."

"Yes."

"Great," Dean slumps onto the table, banging his forehead lightly, arms dangled limply at his side, "My sex life is ruined."

Cas finds himself thinking that if he were human, he would roll his eyes right about now. Instead, he resorts to the one thing that exhibits his thin patience. "Dean," he drawls out, waiting for the hunter to stop moaning, "I cannot sense anything if someone where to touch the physical manifestation of the mark."

Dean's head jerks up, relief shining in his eyes, but before he can say anything Cas finishes his statement. "Now, if someone touched it on your soul..."

The groan is loud as Dean slumps backwards, throwing his hands on the table, "So no getting it on with Megan Fox in Heaven? Great! There goes my paradise island."

Sensing the seriousness, Cas finds himself trying to reshape the image of the handprint. "Even if I could change it, I wouldn't."

Dean's interest peeks, "And why not?"

"From what I have observed, friends, especially those that are close, tend to give each other significant gifts," Cas finds himself swallowing when a rise of what he deems is embarrassment tickles at his throat, "such as a split heart necklace pendant."

Dean blinks, taking in Cas scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tick. It has to be one of the cheesiest things Dean has ever heard in his life. He's not an eight year old girl whose giving her best friend the other part of the pendant that says 'best' while he keeps 'friend.' Heck no because Winchesters, particularly Dean, do not roll that way.

Yet, there's warmth spreading in him because he finally, honest to God, has a true friend. Dad had the handful of hunter buddies, Sam had his college hipsters but Dean never actually had a person refer to themselves as his friend. It was either acquaintance, partner or adopted family member. No one person filled the position of friend...till now.

Sparing a glimpse at where the scar lay hidden, Dean knew that this couldn't exactly equal a pendant. Heck, he doubted Cas had even thought to go 'hey, I'll give you this scar to remember me by.' Overtime though, Dean reflects, it kinda did start to take on the symbolic gesture. Grateful green orbs shoot up, a genuine smile at his lips. "Right back atcha, Cas." The nerves are blasted away and there's that crinkle of the corner of his eyes. Flicking his wrist, Dean hardens his face with a playful scorn, "Just remember this, alongside the whole personal space thing, no click flick moments anymore got it?"

Tilting his head, there goes another infamous confused stare, "What's a click flick moment?"

Shaking his head, Dean glances around spotting a tiny group of women making their way towards the tables. "Drink your coffee."

Staring at him as if he's still trying to figure out the flow of conversation, Cas takes a sip of the coffee. Gagging, he throws his head back, face pinched with disgust. Slamming the cup down, he shoves it at Dean with a bit too much force, sending it flying right into Dean. The lid and cup go ricocheting off to the side, black coffee darkening all over Dean's shirt and jeans.

Yelping, Dean staggers off his seat, shaking off the piping hot drink. "What the hell!"

Coughing and rubbing his mouth clean with the back of his hand, Cas points at the white cup lying traumatized on the concrete ground as if it's some demonic creature. "That is one of the most revolting things I have ever tried."

"It's just coffee man!" Dean twists around, trying to find something to soak up the mess.

"It tastes like something the Neanderthals would make."

"You're a picky little bitch, you know that!"

"I am not a female dog, Dean."

And because Life likes to throw in a curve ball, the attractive women walk by just in time to hear the exchange. They smile, one covering her mouth to hide the laughter while another rolls her eyes and mutters, "Men."

* * *

_Sam fishes out two close to clean mugs from the mud room, one for him and his missing brother. He's walking back to the kitchen, glancing into the study where Bobby is throwing books onto the table jerking Cas away from his guard duty post by the window. The angel tightens his grip over his cup of coffee, making sure nothing is spilt, eyes casting down to study the ripples. Turning the corner, he almost jumps back when he spots Dean standing in the shadows of the stairwell._

_His brother stares into the study, eyes void of anything. It's a bit eerie. Sliding up to him, Sam whispers as not to let the others know of their silent watcher. "Wanna join the party?"_

_"I'm good," answers Dean, "Just thinking on what to say to Death tomorrow." There's a faint smirk on his face when Cas sniffs the coffee, lip curling with unease. "Cas hates coffee."_

_The remark is random but the younger Winchester merely nods, grateful that at least his brother is mentioning their friend. It's a little thing that Sam finds himself glad to spot because it means he can actually fix this, unlike the raid tomorrow at the factory or not covering Dean's back. "You should go talk to Cas."_

_"Why?" The slight sneer in Dean's tone catches Sam off guard, "He'll probably die tomorrow, the idiot not knowing his new mortality. And if not tomorrow, then the Devil, cause he hates him purely on principle. And if not that then probably some random jerk who went through red or a slip on the ice."_

_The blunt, harsh viewpoint sets a fire in Sam. He didn't want the last few days with his brother to be full of fights, but sometimes Dean just asked for it. "Because he's your friend," he hisses out, "He's alive Dean, surviving something we were sure would kill him. Pull your head out of your ass for once because Cas is drowning here. The guy is going through a rough transition and it ain't like puberty. He's pretty much changing species or is going to end up being like an odd mixture. And I for one can relate how hard that can be!" The allusion to the demon blood turns jaded green eyes at him but it doesn't stop Sam, "Cas is becoming an insomniac, won't eat and eyes the pain killers the doctors gave him. He needs someone else besides Bobby and well, I won't be around for much longer-"_

_Something dark snaps in Dean and the next thing Sam knows he's pushed hard into the stairwell wall, the jacket dampening the sound. "You don't get it Sam, I might not be able to protect you when you become the Devil or Bobby' with his deal with Crowley. But like hell, I can control what happens to Cas. And the last thing he needs is me. I screwed him up, Sam. Heck, I'm killing him even. I don't want a repeat of those past few weeks, can't live through it again." Dean becomes lost during his bitter speech, eyes going almost wild with grief and horror. Then he steps back, letting go of the blue jacket, gazing at the strewn dust floating around them, sanity creeping back. _

_Sam doesn't know how to respond except to stand there and let the words turn into ghosts between them. Then Deans' eyes narrow as they glance back into the study. Sam follows suit and spots Cas sipping away at the coffee, the grimace easing away after each swallow. Dean bites back a heave, marching past Sam before throwing open and slamming the front door closed with a loud crack. Shoulders slumping, Sam holds the two empty mugs in his hands, feeling Cas and Bobby's eyes burning on his back._


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox that is Kripke and the CWs.

A/N: Hi guys, well here's the latest chapter. Now, it might sound like the finale chappie, but I got one more left. So, Enjoy! Oh and the title comes from the movie Michael.

**Chapter 19: Me oh my, I love pie**

They're driving down the highway, Bobby's headlights peeking out over the horizon, the only other light on this back highway. Sam had been surprised when Cas followed Bobby, helping with carrying the supplies. Loading up the van, he had turned to hop in when Bobby shut the door.

"Nope, you riding with those chuckleheads. Make sure no one gains a shiner."

Bobby knows them too well, mused Sam. Cas trudged to the Impala and slid into the seat behind him. And that was that, the final march, the last stand at the Alamo. Crowley's disappeared, probably hiding out in some chateau drinking expensive wine. Bobby is focused, saying little about the terms about his deal. Dean's staring down the road, not wanting to deal with the situation in typical Dean fashion. But Sam feels as if it's more, like Cas' fall is a major mile marker towards a dark, unwanted future.

Within the silence, Sam feels Dean warring against every instinct to protect his little brother. It's how he knows that this 'death' will break his brother more than the first time. Worse scenario, he pictures, is Dean hunting and getting himself killed by a vampire or drowning in a bottle in some seedy motel. No, Dean needs to get out, get away from everything that will remind him hunting and himself. Bobby would be good, but there is too much baggage and the poor guy needs a break from the Winchesters. And Cas…

No, Dean needs someone from the outside, a person not scared by this life, yet knows the game, accepts him as he is and not scream for the nuthouse. Who can give Dean a purpose to live again. Someone Sam saw once in Dean's dream, someone Dean saw on his farewell tour-someone who's still alive. And sadly, Dean's circle of acquaintances that would take him in is not huge. It's not true love by a long shot, but Lisa and Ben are the perfect sanctuary, a haven for Dean to heal, a place to rest without worrying about the next motel, money and a job. It's a place of stability and support.

It's easy for Sam to know what's good for Dean. The problem arises in how he'll get his brother to promise. As for Bobby, Sam is not worried. The old man always knew how to trudge onwards. And now with his legs back, Sam sees that fire in his eyes roaring back with intensity.

Glancing in the mirror, he spots one that worries him as much as Dean, except he's at a total lost. Cas is sitting upright, straight as an arrow, yet his foot is fidgeting against the mat, eyes scanning all over in the interior. The other member of the team hasn't talked much about his ordeal, on waking up in the hospital or trying to cope with his new existence. And Sam can see the signs that the ex-angel is not taking it all that well, especially when his closest friend is giving him the cold shoulder. Sam has no clue how to help the angel, because he can see Cas and Dean staying together like a nuclear plant on the verge of imploding.

Cas bends down in the seat, picking up a dust covered tape. Wiping his fingers, coating them in a fine layer, his face remains blank but those blue eyes darken.

"What you got there Cas?" Sam asks, fighting to keep his voice level.

"It's a CCR tape," he leans forward holding out the tape.

"Wanna listen to it?"

"No, but can you please put in the box." The blankness of the voice drives that spike of worry even further.

Sam gently takes the tape, "Sure." Cas slides backwards into the dark. Dean glances out his window, loathing lining his face.

Nothing occurs till they're at a gas station. Bobby is filling up his van and Dean's cleaning the window shield. Cas is standing near by, glancing around when all of a sudden he starts walking. Dean freezes, mid-streak, eyes going wide. "Cas."

But the man doesn't heed, merely keeps moving with his steady stride towards a tiny little café across the barren street. With the slouched shoulders but purposeful walk, Sam realizes Cas isn't some feeble new human being.

"Sam."

It only takes one word from Dean and he's off, jogging to catch up to Cas. He reaches him right when the ex-angel opens the door, bell ringing. "Cas, we-"

"I thought it would be a good idea to eat something, especially for you since the last thing you will remember is drinking demon blood." He turns to lock his eyes on him, dead set on this action. "And I am hungry, Sam"

Last supper, whispers in the back of Sam's mind. And somehow despite the morbid theme, Sam thins his lips. It takes only a nanosecond before he pulls the door fully open. "Let's do this."

The two step into the diner, two truck drivers camped out on the counter. Cas, in a flutter of his coat, walks over and slides into a booth. Sam sits across, glancing out the window spotting the Impala and the van parking out front. Sighing, he sends a warm smile at Cas, whose reading the chalkboard over the counter. The door swings open and charging in is Dean, Bobby following with a softer pace.

Halting in front of the table, Dean glares at the pair. "What are you two doing?"

Cas answers bluntly, not taking his eyes off the board. "We are going to eat."

"We don't have time for this Cas."

"If Lucifer waited six months for Sam," Cas snaps his eyes onto Dean, "he can wait another hour."

Bobby lifts the brim of his hat, "You paying?"

Cas nods at the older man, "Yes."

Bobby rubs his hands together, "Then I'm in." Plopping down by Sam, he stares up at Dean. Dean sighs and grumbles incoherently as he sits next to Cas.

The waitress appears, beaming with the joy that her husband is coming home tomorrow and how she's a mother to be. "What can I do for you tonight?" Her chipperness is a polar opposite to the thundering cloud over the table.

Cas fixes his stare at her, taking a moment to her mood wash over him. It's a little thing he has begun to appreciate about humans, of how they can be happy over the smallest of things compared to the bigger picture. "Three black coffees, one root beer and" he points to Bobby, "Slice of peach pie, Sam will have a slice of lemon meringue, Dean will have apple and I shall have the huckleberry."

The waitress jolts down the order before sending a wink straight at him, "Perfect choice, if I may so myself." Gracefully, she walks towards the kitchen, humming away some nameless tune.

Everyone turns their attention to Cas, who looks back at them with an expectant expression. "Did I choose wrong?"

Sam grins while Bobby chuckles, "Nah, feathers, you got it just right." Scratching at his beard, the older hunter scowls at Dean, who's fuming at the corner. "Cheer up, boy, never saw you get so upset over pie, especially if it's free."

Dean's arms are folded, a frown on his face as he sits slightly slouched in the bench. "We don't have time for this and I ain't hungry."

Sam blinks and he feels as if he's watching from the outside. Bobby shakes his head, folding his hands on the table when the waitress comes back with the coffee and root beer. Cas is sipping at the soda, watching the fizz, the foam bubbles tickling at his face. Dean merely shifts his gaze and stares as if the angel went crazy.

Bobby shakes his head, "Don't drink too much, doubt Dean wants to have to make a pit stop every twenty miles."

Dean glares at Cas, "Got that right, if you do I'm leaving your sorry ass on the roadside." He takes a sip the coffee, a hum of approval sneaking past his grouchy mood. The hot drink is the best he's tasted. He rises slightly, glancing around to see the name of the café because he's coming back for sure, if there is a next time.

Cas huffs and takes a long drink. "For one who complains a lot, you do not need to drink the cup."

Dean's face tightens with anger, "Alright smart alec."

"It is not, if it is true. And my name is not Alec." The burn creates a blush over Dean's face. Sam wants to know where this sarcasm has come from Cas, but then maybe this side of him always been there, just muted.

Dean's about to reach out and toss an empty sugar packet at Cas, when Bobby's voice halts the two. "Okay, princesses, stop acting like five year olds."

"I am not five," Cas is close to what one might describe as pouting, Dean mirroring the resentment.

The waitress comes by with perfect timing with the pie, "Warmed it up for you guys." Handing out the dishes, she recalls the order, "Peach, Lemon, Huckleberry and Apple. Anything else I can give you?"

Bobby nods at the pair, "How about some paper and crayons for the kiddies."

Dean scowls hard as Cas' brow furrows in confusion. The waitress and Bobby share a chuckle. Then she sends a surprise playful wink at Sam, "Sure."

When she's out of earshot, Dean hisses, "What the hell, Bobby?"

Bobby smirks right back. "Just knocking you down a few pegs boy." Then a loud booming laugh erupts from the older man, his hands slamming into the table when the waitress returns with some paper and crayons.

She lays out the paper before Dean and Cas, placing the crayons between them. "Why don't you draw something nice and we'll place it up on the wall."

Bobby is laughing so hard at the blank expression on Cas's face and the bright red of Dean's face that there are a few tears leaking out.

Sam can't help but laugh along as Dean stutters out a murmured, "Thank you," while flashing that infamous grin.

The waitress leans down, playing along with the poor attempt to flirt out of this disaster. "Married sweetheart, but good try." She pulls back up, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Enjoy the pie!"

As she walks away, Bobby shouts out, "God bless you!" Wiping his eyes, Bobby coughs back another round as he reaches out for his own cup. Dean twists his head to see Cas doodling with a blue crayon some intricate symbol on the white paper.

"What are you drawing?" snipes Dean.

Cas peers up from his work, "It is a sigil for prosperity and blessings upon a household."

Rolling his eyes, Dean grabs Cas' paper, picking up the green crayon. "You're not suppose to draw this stuff. People will think you are weird and if anything gonna tick them off."

"Why?"

Dean's scribbling some stick figure stabbing away at another one that has devil horns and tail. It's hard, even for adults or least ones as immature as Dean, not to at least draw something with a crayon in one's hand. It's an instinct that never really goes away.

"Yeah Dean, cause what you are drawing is so appropriate," snarks Sam.

"Shut up." Dean licks his lips about to respond to Cas' question when a low moan comes from across the table. All three snap their eyes to watch as Bobby chews his slice of pie before smacking his mouth clean. "Damn."

Sam quirks his eye at Bobby, "That good huh?"

There's a clatter of silverware off across the table. Dean stabs at his slice, yanking off a big piece of apple pie, while Cas slides his fork into his pie with pure etiquette. Despite the differing approaches, both faces hover on bliss. Dean's are shut with rapture as he groans. Cas' eyes fall half mast, licking his lips clean of every crumb before going in for another slice.

And it's enough to wash away the anxieties and broodiness that had clouded over the table. Sending a tiny smile at Cas, Sam waits for the angel to pause his fork halfway up with another slice. "You're a genius Cas."

The angel rolls his shoulders, a motion Dean's done multiple times in the past. The bleeding similarities in mannerisms and speech are kinda cute, if Sam dare say. As long as Cas doesn't pick up Dean's annoying habits like watching Casa Erotica or eating disgusting food non-stop.

Bobby's gruff voice takes a breath of air, before he reaches for another sip of coffee. "You sure do know how to pick 'em, Cas." Dean mumbles in agreement between forkfuls of pie and slurps of coffee.

Cas resumes eating the slice, the table falling silent in comfort. Sam watches trying to figure out if it this was Cas' true intention or if he really was just hungry. But seeing how Dean relaxes and Bobby's not so stricken, it doesn't really matter what the real intention was. Either way, the old stubborn, driven Cas is sitting right across him, filling in those cracks as he shifts about trying to find his footing in this new existence. It's finding a purpose and accomplishing it, even if it's a tiny thing as picking out a diner that brings a bit of life back into the fallen angel.

It's something, Sam files away, that can help Cas, once he's gone. Because, another similarity he spots between the two as they glance around the diner making sure there is no threats is in needing a mission, ordered or not. That similarity that clicks into focus what Sam will ask of Cas.

It's a small favor but it will give him peace of mind, knowing that his family is in capable hands. There's nothing more a dead man walking can ask for. Picking up his fork, Sam takes a bite of the pie, humming in agreement as the sweetness explodes over his mouth. This had to be the best pie he has ever eaten and he couldn't help but agree with Bobby. Taking another large bite, Sam digs into the meal without the usual reservation. And why not, it's a perfect last supper.

Nearing the crust, the dark spice of the coffee warming his bones just right, Sam ponders when the best time will be to ask Cas, without embarrassing his brother. As if sensing the train of though, Cas sends a quick glance of relief his way, as if his approval is as important as Deans.

It's a look, Sam feels, that despite changed circumstances, one thing still holds true. It's a little thing they agreed to months before, when this concept of friendship between them was a cease-fire. When, there was discord and non-existent trust. But overtime, that little thing has expanded beyond a loud-mouthed, over-protective brother. Dean said it best, that this was it. Team Free Will: one high-school dropout, an ex-blood junkie, an ex-angel now and a scruffy-looking scrap yard mechanic.

But this team, this little thing that went from Dean to this small gathering strengthens Sam. It gives him the courage to drink the gallons of demon blood sloshing in the trunk of the Impala, to give his body over to Lucifer and save the earth and humanity from a full-scale Apocalypse.

It's a little treasured thing he's going to ask Cas to protect because he trusts him completely without any doubt or reservations.

It's a little thing called family.

* * *

**A/N:** Just a little side-note, but I always thought it was sweet and a glimpse of how close Sam and Cas had become, when Sam asked Cas to take care of the guys in the goodbye scene in Swan Song. Otherwise, this is the end of pretty much the season 5 scope. The next chapter will act more like an epilogue within the settings of season 6.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: This is it, guys, the last chapter to this story. It's set in Season 6, so heads up for spoilers if you're not caught up. It's after episode 6x10, after Sam walks off leaving Dean by the Impala. There's also some references to what happens in 6x11. Let me tell ya, after writing the last chapter and shifting into the tone of Season 6, this chapter went under a couple revisions especially when dealing with souless Sam's perspective.

Also, I just want to say thank you all for hanging in there between chapters and writing all the great reviews. Really, it's because of you guys that this story went beyond the planned ten chapters. So thanks you guys :)

**Chapter 20: Soul Train**

Sam needs to get away, take a breather before he does something regrettable. He wants to scream at the sky, beat it into Dean's head that he doesn't want his soul. Doesn't understand what the big deal is about having a soul in the first place. Because all he sees is grief and complications creating a world of gray. It's best to do it the way he's been doing it for the past year and a half. Go in, get questions answered and fix the problem. Kill the monster. Period. The end.

Oh, he remembers the past years, how they fought the Devil and won. Sam watches the memories like a movie playing out, an outsider seeing all the pain and suffering overcoming the happiest of times. He likes the happy times but doesn't want all the pain that comes with it. He doesn't want to be this Sammy person Dean yearns for or the Sam Cas reminisces.

Speaking of Cas, Sam slams his fist hard into the metal siding of the massive warehouse. Dean's with the Impala on the other side of the building, probably calling up Bobby to complain. But Cas should know what it's like to be him, how it's a great relief to be without a soul and be focused solely on the mission. Take the little things like not comprehending social etiquette or how certain missions require drastic measures like soul searching a kid into account. The angel should be backing him. Instead, Cas is once again taking Dean's side. And it seems, so is Dean all of a sudden.

Despite the year apart, the trust is stronger than ever. No matter the fights and conflicting goals, Sam verses Civil War; the youngest Winchester notices tiny acts that speak louder and contradict spoken words. Dean backs up Cas, telling him or Crowley to answer the angel's questions. There's the belief Dean has on every word the angel says, not once debating it. Bobby is on speed-dial, but Cas's name falls easily and firstly off Dean's lips. How Dean steps into Cas' personal space, as if seeking shelter and strength to face this thing called Sam Winchester.

Now there a new thing, of Dean saying he understands Cas' plight and wanting to help, telling the angel they're friends. It's these little things that make Cas confess to Dean, laying out the entire picture of the soul situation. A mixture of past and present, Cas is blunt but sympathetic at the same time, the latter at the forefront instead of hidden.

It seems these acts, Sam deduces, is what makes Cas respond and weather Dean's issues rather than his. Because supposedly tricking and threatening an angel is not what it takes to gain his respect, even though it worked for his brother. It's a little thing, Sam realizes, is why there is tension between them. Cas must have sensed something off and didn't bother with the false pleasantries. Why the angel doesn't treat him like the old Sam, as a trusted friend.

It shouldn't surprise Sam, but he recalls a time when they were on the same page about protecting family. But no, Cas forgot about his promise in watching out for Dean and Bobby. The angel left them and went back up to heaven, not even bothering to answer Sam's prayers.

It's this little thing out of all the others that makes Sam's blood boil. He knows it is anger, something that has always haunted him. And now without any moral compass or barriers, this emotion flares bright and harsh. Sam welcomes it because really, why should he fight it. This anger has served him well in the past, makes him focused on hunts and not distracted by trivial things like motive, third parties or feelings.

Turning around the corner, Sam pauses at the exit door spotting the wide open door. Stepping up to the entrance, he peers down the flickering hallway that held a good size collection of alpha monsters. Eyes narrowing, he sees the faint outlines of jail cells ripped off their hinges, tossed like trash onto the ground.

Fists tightening, Sam heaves in a heavy breath. He wasn't joking when he told Cas he would hunt him down and kill him. And if Dean can kill an angel, so can he. Folding his body slightly, Sam marches off into the warehouse.

* * *

Dean stares up at the broken windows of the large warehouse. It's been two hours since Sam left, walking away again. Yet this time, Dean finds that he's not that upset. Truth is, he expected it.

"You mispronounced the last word."

Sighing, Dean glances to his side where Cas is sipping away at a beer. The angel is covered slightly in dust and grim, a slight splatter of blood here and there. Dean's learned if anything these past two years, that if Cas is dirty it means the angel is tired.

Taking a sip of his own beer, the two are leaning against the trunk of the Impala, the happy gibberish talk of Bobby John at their feet. The baby shape shifter is knocking around large pieces rock, sitting comfortable in a pair of jeans and a green tee-shirt. He's all too oblivious at how close he was at Death's door.

"_I thought you might want to see this little one again, one more time. I only killed the ones that put up a fight or were a serious threat, while the others took off. I don't need any more enemies after me_."

It's a testament, a tiny glimpse into how bad things are going up in Heaven. It's something, Dean feels, that he's finally allowing himself to comprehend. Because, let's face it, he's been more a dick towards Cas, than the other way around.

"Dean."

The older Winchester snaps out his thoughts, rolling his shoulders to shake away the train of thought. Accusation lines his tone, but there's no longer the driving snap behind it. "Don't you have to go somewhere?"

Cas picks at the label, "I did leave in mid-battle. I should go back." There's a pause, a freeze of a finger curling over the blue logo. It's a type of pause Cas wouldn't have done in the past. And it surprises Dean, these little nuances of sarcasm, air quotes, porn and kissing that shows how Cas has never been this 'human,' even when he was powerless.

The bottle rises to his lips, sipping ever so slowly as if savoring the cheap flavor, blue eyes fall into a distant look. "I highly doubt my presence can change anything at the moment."

Dean gives a curt nod, seeing the stark appearance of weariness over the angel. It wasn't as apparent as before. Then again, he admits quietly, he has been a bit tunnel-minded with searching and retrieving Sam's soul. Anything outside of Sam's plight has been pushed to the side in typical Winchester fashion. Nothing new there.

On a cliff note, if Bobby is narrating the tale, he would say that Dean and Cas are in the same boat. He would explain that Dean yelling and calling Cas names is because the angel is family. In Dean's book, family is number one. And if a family member does not help in protecting a member, he gets upset and angry. But Cas is torn, much like Dean was, between two families: that of the old and new. Dean with Sam and Lisa and Ben, Cas with the angels and the Winchesters. It's a hard choice and no balance can be maintained. At least Lisa pushed Dean away gently. Cas, though, is still attached to the angels, not having such a clean break.

It's this torn existence for the past year and a half that if visible, one would see the once majestic wings shimmering in the colors of the Northern Lights dim and drag on the metaphorical floor. Stress and alertness force Cas to become snappy, irrational and procrastinate in returning back upstairs. It's why he seeks the mundane of television and the curiosity of humanity in kissing. Why he let a few alphas go in hope of avoiding another front of this war. The threat of a leaderless Hell, missing weapons and the issue of Purgatory still loom in the back of his mind, a heavier pressure than that of the Apocalypse.

If the angel is honest with himself, Cas wants to flee, hide down here like Gaberiel did. He's breaking, falling into desperate measures that make him sick and ashamed. He doesn't tell Dean how some of his brethren are comparing him to a certain angel. How, Lucifer's words ring truer and truer each day. The nightmares that he is not suppose to have haunt him with each call of his siblings. So, Castiel forces himself to stand still, to cling to this little thing called friendship, even if it's strained and one-sided. He'll take what he can get because he would rather have a ghost of what the three used to have than a weak intimidation he has in Heave.

Draining the bottle, Cas bends down and hands it to Bobby John. The baby's eyes brighten as his cubby fingers grasp onto the neck. A tiny curl perks his lips, a dull happiness shines in his eyes as the shape-shifter begins to the bottle on the ground, hard enough to make a noise but not enough to break.

Sighing, Cas stares at a tiny blemish on the rear bumper. "You seem to pick up Enochian faster than Latin. But I highly doubt you wish to talk to a Sphinx." Secretly, Cas hates this plan. He doesn't want Dean to die once again only to have a one-on-one chat with the Horseman Death. But his inquiries have lead to dead ends and Dean's getting desperate. And truth be told, so is Cas. Ever since that threat, he misses the old Sam, yearns for the quiet reassurances that the youngest Winchester was willing to give.

Cas wants his friend back, just like Dean wants his brother. "You think this will work?"

Dean chuckles, but there's the nervous tick tightening his frame. "Why not? Out of all the crazy stuff I've done, this is simple. Besides, we can't let Sam run around like this anymore."

A dark frown lines the angel's face, his shoulders lowering even more. "But what if Death does not agree?"

"We'll deal with that when we get there." There's that optimistic streak once again peeking through. And Cas finds himself yearning to know how to find such bright little things in such dark circumstances. He could use such morale boosts to strengthen his troops.

Licking his lips, Cas does what he does best. "And the emotional repercussions? Dean, the Cage is not like the Pit. They are totally two different entities. What you experienced under Alistair's blade and onwards is nothing like what Lucifer and Michael are doing. What you think he's gone through, you are wrong in assuming."

Dean stares at the ground, his default motion in not knowing how to respond. Cas wants to give himself a slap on the shoulder that he hasn't lost his touch in reading Dean. "I don't care. I just-I can't drop it, Cas. Even when I lived with Lisa, I looked everywhere for a way to pull Sam out. And this was my last measure, one concrete thing I could come up with. I was just missing-"

"The incantation."

"Yeah, I mean it's not really something some scholar would write down. I mean what kind of schmuck would summon Death?" Dean's glancing up at him, a watery smile on his face, a contrast to the terrified expression shining out from his green eyes.

"You," Cas cannot help cocking an eyebrow. Dean sneers back, "Dick," before bending down to pick up Bobby John, plucking the bottle out of his hand and throwing it off to the side. Bobby John doesn't cry at the loss of his toy but instead giggles at the new height advantage.

"Just be careful." Cas spares a glance over to one of the windows, "Sam is not in his right mind. I've been around many creatures, Dean, and they all react the same way when pushed into a corner they don't want to be in."

Dean pauses in straightening out the baby's clothes. "Something happened when he summoned you."

"He threatened to kill me." Cas speaks without reservation or any hesitation as if a death threat is a common occurrence. Dean knows Cas has a suicidal streak to match his, but the almost flippant tone tugs at him. It's a little thing Dean finds himself not liking. Cas is home in Heaven, there shouldn't be death threats. Once again, the hunter feels as if the blinders are being pulled away, the cotton pulled from his ears, for him to finally get a shaky grasp on what's been happening to Cas.

Dean lowers his voice, his body curling over Bobby John who stares between the two full-grown me. "You too huh?"

The surprise and concern that bursts forth makes Dean want to smack himself for doubting Cas' stance. "What?"

"Sam stood by and watched me get turned into a vampire." Dean tries to keep out the rage, "Hell, the only person he hasn't gone after is Bobby."

"We should warn him." Ah, that old familiar conviction is back.

Dean nods, "Yeah but Bobby can take care of himself pretty well."

"I do not doubt that, considering he is the only human I have ever heard that has been able to free himself from a deal." Admiration shines in those blue eyes.

"That's Bobby," the baby coons as if happy to hear his name. Dean laughs, ruffling the baby's hair. With one pass, a loud wet pop ricochets off the walls followed by a full burst of crying as the shape-shifter flaps his arms around sending mucus, blood and flesh flying everywhere.

Spitting off the guck, Dean holds a wailing Bobby John away from him, groaning at the disgusting mess all over his clothes, arms, hair. "What the heck, this is disgusting!" Glaring at Bobby John, Dean snarls, "You couldn't wait a few more minutes."

Tears running down his cheeks, Bobby John mutes his cries by sticking his thumb into his mouth. Shaking his body slightly, Dean eyes the new appearance, taking in the shocking blue eyes with the soft tuft of brown hair. It's almost like a mixture between him and Cas. "Oh very clever, Bobby John!" Turning, Dean holds the baby out to Cas, "Here. Man, I need new clothes-"

Glancing down, he takes in the clean state of his clothes. Even Bobby John is clean, not a speck of the change on either of them. The baby glances down at himself, a tiny giggle escaping his mouth before going back to glancing around, tears and pain forgotten. Fixing his stare at the angel, Dean takes in an expression he hasn't seen in a long time. A content, peaceful look washes away the dark cloud that has been hanging over the angel.

The words fly out before he has time to think. "I mean it Cas, this time I do. If…" Dean feels his throat tighten, not sure how to go about an apology. Because he and Cas, they just don't do this thing. They haven't in a long time and honestly, Dean still feels a bit bitter at the angel leaving him.

Still, Dean's surprised that Cas hasn't yelled at him like Bobby did. He also doesn't like the changes he's seen in the angel. Kissing Meg had been a line he wasn't aware of. If Cas felt the need to kiss a demon out of all creatures, it's as if a bomb siren went off in Dean's head. The whole thing is a twisted deja-vu of Sam and Ruby and the demon blood all over again, except Cas isn't hiding or denying anything.

If Cas isn't careful, Dean can see him having a meltdown pretty soon. And it's something Dean doesn't want to happen to his friend, doesn't want to lose him like he lost Sam by becoming an unrecognizable person in a familiar meat suit.

Cas reaches out and plucks Bobby John from Dean's grasp. "Recite the summoning again."

Back to buisness, like usual. Dean nods, licking his lips, the words spilling out clear and concise while he mulls over the insight. Unbeknownst to them, Sam watches quietly from inside the warehouse peering through a broken window, his large frame hiding behind a cluster of discarded furniture. He waits till Cas flutters away with Bobby John in tow, a few more minutes while Dean throws away his empty beer bottle before pushing open the exit door.

* * *

_It's there, that tiny pesky little thing called survival. Dean spots it amongst the emotions of fear and disbelief fixating down at him. For someone who says he doesn't feel anything, he wants to laugh, take a picture and show Sam that there are just some things too engrained into a human's body and mind that even the removal of a soul can't vanquish._

_Curling his fingers over the cold metal of Death's ring, Cas' words about desperate creatures is on replay in the back of his mind. And despite not trusting this Sam, when it's clear Sam doesn't want his soul and is not likely to stay still, Dean finds himself sending up a tiny prayer that he'll ace this new job quickly before something terrible goes wrong. For a split second, Dean finds himself wanting to call Cas. But Sam knows how to get rid of the angel and the tension between them is rough enough. Besides, the angel neglected his duties last time. Dean doubts he can pull it off again. Which is fine because he has to do this alone. It's his job._

_Straightening his shoulders, he takes in one final look at this empty version of his brother. Pivoting, Dean walks up towards Bobby, whispering a stern order and a hidden warning. "Watch him."_

_It's amazing how such little things like brothers, family and friendship will push a person to do the unthinkable and the impossible._

**_The End._**


End file.
